CPweRi^. 



GALLOP 



AMERICAN SCENERY 

OR, 

SEE TCHE S 

OF 

AMERICAN SCENES AND MILITARY ADVENTURE 



AUGUSTUS E.SILLIMAN. 




N E W-YORK : 
D. APPLETON «&, CO., 200 BROADWAY 

PHILADELPHIA: 
GEO. S. APPLETON, 148 CHESNUT STREET. 



M DCCC XLIII 









Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, 

BY D. APPLETON AND CO., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of 



New-York. 






11 



LTJEWIG, PRINTER, 
72 Vesey-st.. N. Y. 



TO 



BENJAMIN D. SILLlMAN, 



JLi'g'^^lLi'm -rOILWMll 



AFPB 



OTIONATELT INSCEIBED. 



HIS BROTHER 



A number of the foUowing Sketches have appeared at inter- 
vals in the columns of the New- York American. 



CONTENTS. 

I Banks of thk Potomac 

8 

II The Country Pastor — • 

13 

III. Mount Vernon 

25 

IV, Medical Student 

39 
V The Resurrectionists 

^, , 44 

VI. Old Kennedy, No. I.- 

53 

VII. Old Kennedy, No. II. 

59 

VIII. Old Kennedy, No. Ill 

68 

IX. Old Kennedy, No. IV. 

78 

X Lee's Partisan Legion 

107 

XI. Hudson River 

113 
XIL Night Attack on Fort Erie 

, ^ 120 

Xm. Battle of Lundy's Lane 

131 
XIV. Lake George and Tioonderoga 

139 

XV. Montreal 

144 

XVI. The Nun 

148 

XVII. Cataracts of Niagara • 

155 

XVIII. Mount HoLYOKE 

160 

XIX. White Mountains 

169 
XX Bass Fishing off Newport 

176 

XXI. Brenton's Reef 

185 

XXIL Old Trinity Steeple 

201 

XXIII. Long Island Sound 

220 

XXIV. Green-Wood Cemetery 

233 

Appendix 



BANKS OF THE POTOMAC. 

No. — State-street— (storm without)— apartment 
strewed with sundry bachelor appurtenances, fronting 
on the Battery-a gentleman, in dressing-gown and 
embroidered slippers, measuring the room with hasty 
slnAes — exclaimeth impatiently — 

North-east by the flags of the shipping in the bay! 
North-east by the chill rain dashing on the wmdow 
panes! North-east by the weather-cocks on all the 
steeples, from St. Paul's to the dog-vane on the stable 
end ' North-east by the ache of every bone in my body . 
Eheu I What's to be done 1 No going abroad in this 
torrent I've read all the landlady's little library. 
How shall I kill the enemy? I'll whistle; vulgar. 
Sin.^ ; I can't. There are the foils and the gloves. 
Pshaw ! I have no friend to pommel or pink ; besides, 
the old lady in the room below, has nerves. Whew ! 
how it pours. ni-I'll-stand and look out into the 
street. Jupiter! how n%ar the bread-cart came to 
«oing over the chimney sweep. Poor Sooty-how he 
grins I He owes the worm no silk-whatever obliga- 
tions his rags may be under to the sheep. Poor 
fellow! Holloa! ho! blackey ; catch this quarter, 
and get you a hot breakfast. There goes that eon- 
1 



2 BANKS OF THE POTOMAC. 

founded battery gate again ! bang — bang — night and 
day. There's never a loafer takes his morning pro- 
menade, or even siesta on the grass, but must needs 
follow his dirty face through that particular gate. 

Alas ! me miserable. What shall I do ? The spirit 
of ennui rides me as thoroughly as did the '' old man 
of the sea" Siiibad the sailor. Eh ! they're the dumb 
bells. Diminish nervous excitability, by muscular 
exertion. Good ! — humph ; and there's the old lady's 
nerves below. How the wind roars and rumbles 
round the chimney tops. Rain — rain — rain. There ! 
that tin spout is choked, and the gutter is pouring over 
a young cataract. Oh! that I were a newspaper 
carrier, or a whale — or the sea serpent, chasing the 
down East fishermen — or — in short, any thing, so that 
I need not mind the wet. Hum — hum — what shall I 
do ? I have it. Eureka ! I have it. I'll sit down 
and give my friend of the American an account of my 
last ramble. 

(Rolleth his chair up to the table at the fire — cross- 
eth his legs on the fender — and proceedeth to nib his 
pen.) Now for it. (Writes.) 

You well recollect, my dear Mr. Editor, the argu- 
ments that I used, to induce you to make a short journey 
to the South with me last summer ; and your answer, 
*' I can't leave the paper." You well recollect that I 
urged that we were not born to work alone ; that life 



BANKS OF THE POTOMAC. 3 

was short; that sixteen or sixiy, its term was but a 
flash ; that we were rushing on with increased velo- 
city to that bourne, whose sands are marked by no 
returning foot-print— that bourne where the sceptre 
and diadem of the monarch lie contemptuously hurled 
with the goad and chain of the slave— where, their 
service ended, the broken wain of the yeoman, and the 
grim cannon of the soldier, interlock their shattered 
wheels; the bayonet and pruning-hook— the sword 
and the ploughshare rest without a name. You well 
recollect that I reproached you, the rather, with too 
great love for the green fields and giant elms around 
your cottage at Elizabethtown ; that I swore by my 
faith ! and I believed in the doctrine of Pythagoras, that 
I should look to see thy immortal part, transferred on 
its exit, from its present habitation to one of those huge 
trees towering into the blue ether ; that there, in the 
sunny mornings of summer, for sonnets which do en- 
liven thy columns, I should hear the joyous call of 
the robin— the shrill whistle of the scarlet oriole; for 
sparkling wit,— the dew of night glittering on thy 
leaves in the early sunbeams ; for wise old saws, and 
dreamy legends, venerable moss gathering upon thy 
trunk and branches, while, alike in the evening wind 
or howling blast, thou shouldest stand firm against 
casuistry or dictation. " Wilt go ?" " Wilt join me ?» 
—with soft persuasion murnmred I. " The paper— 
the paper— the pa— per," quoth thou. " Presto," quoth 



4 BANKS OF THE POTOMAC. 

/ — and without more ado started in my usual heels- 
over-head fashion, alone on my journey. 

I swept over the broad breast of the Delaware — 
dashed down the enemy insulted Chesapeake — bounded 
through the city of riots and beauty, and came down 
on my feet at the cottage of my whole-souled friend, 
Tom B , on the banks of the Potomac. The after- 
noon of my arrival was warm and still, and every thing 
in nature, even the birds, seemed wrapped in indolent 
repose. Slowly sauntering through the long vistas of 
sycamores and elms, which adorned the grounds in 
picturesque avenues, the airy East Indian cottage of my 
friend suddenly broke upon my sight, peering from 
a whole load of flowering vines and sweet briars, 
tall white lilies, and moss roses, from thick beds of 
myrtle at their feet, climbing into the half open lattices, 
while two towering pines almost crossed their extend- 
ed branches above its lowly roof. I stole quietly 
through the open door, examining the choice Italian 
landscapes hanging upon the walls of the airy grass- 
matted hall, — slid through the drawing-rooms, stopping 
for a moment to scan the crouching Venus and dying 
Gladiator on their pedestals ; to admire the exquisite 
Magdalen of Carlo Dolce — the lovely Claude, the 
Cenci, and Flora beneath their silken tassels, — and 
coming out upon the verandah overlooking the river, 
suspended in his grass hammock, found master Tom, 
enjoying his luxurious siesta. His double-barrelled gun 



BiNKS OF THE POTOMAC. 

and game-bag-his linen shooting jacket, hnge son.- 
brero, and hunting-boots, were tumbled promiscuously 
in one corner of the piazza,-while half a dozen fine 
plover, turning up their plump breasts, a partridge, and 
some score of yellow-legged smpe, with the powder- 
flask and shot-belt, were thrown across the back of the 
rustic settee, trophies of his morning's sport, beneath 
which, with their noses extended between their legs m 
like luxurious repose, lay the huge old Newfound- 
lander, " Bernard," and his favourite pointer, " Soho 

The mild breeze bore in the sweet perfume of the 
honey-suckle from a neighbouring arbour and the 
broad Potomac, stretched tranquilly onwards, undis- 
tnrbed save by the occasional jibe of the boom, or 
lazy creak of the rudder of some craft, reflected wiA 
her white sails upon its surface. The garden, with it 
white-gravelled walks, bordered with box, descended 
in parterres to the river's edge-an embroidered carpet 
of flowers ; and lemon and orange trees, released rom 
their winter's confinement, displayed their golden fruit, 
hanging amid the green leaves in tempting profusioi. 
I bent over and looked into the hammock, and co Id 
not but admire the serenity of the manly features, the 
measured heave of the broad chest, and the masses of 
raven locks, playing around the white forehead o he 
sleeper, as they were slowly lifted by the play of the 
paslw,nd.'l thought it were a sin to isturb him 

so drawing out my cigar case, I stretched myself on 



O BANKS OF THE POTOMAC. 

the settee at his side, complacently reclining my head 
upon its arm. Whiles watching the blue smoke of my 
" Regalia," as it slowly wreathed and floated above my 
head — whiles watching the still dreamy flow of the 
river — and whiles — if I must confess it— cooritatinof 
which had been the wisest, myself the bachelor, or 
Tom the married man, — Tom, myself, the dogs, form- 
ing a tolerably correct picture of still life, — a still life 
that remained unbroken for some half hour, when 
through the glass door of the drawing-room a beautiful 
boy of three or four years came galloping into the 
piazza, and bounding towards the dogs, threw himself 
full length upon the shaggy Newfoundlander, manfully 
striving to pull open his huge jaws with his little hands. 
The Newfoundlander opening his eyes, saw me, and 
raising himself on his legs, gave a low growl ; while 
the child, relinquishing his hold upon the ears to which 
he had clung, as the dog rose to his feet, came slowly 
up to me, and placing his plump little hands upon my 
knee, looked curiously and inquiringly into my face, 
his golden locks falling in a profusion of ringlets down 
his superb sunburnt shoulders. I was charmed with 
the confidence, and innocence, and sweetness beaming 
from his gaze, and took him upon my knee, his hand 
playing with my watch guard, while his beautiful blue 
eyes remained fixed in the same look of curious inquiry 
on mine. I said it was a picture of sti I life. Tom, 
aroused by the dog, slowly lifted his head over the 



BANKS OF THE POTOMAC. ^ 

ed.e of the hammock, rubbed his eyes as if uncertain 
whether he were in a dream, as I calmly and silently 
returned his astonished gaze, and then, with a single 
swiu., was at my side, both of my hands clasped m 
his. °The next moment, X fancy the picture was other 

than slill life. 

Why should I tell you of the tea-table, loaded with 
delicacies in the matted hall, as the soft evening sun-set 
poured its last rays through iti of the symmetrical 
Lure clad in snowy whiteness-the Grecian features, 
the dark Andalusian eyes, beaming with kindness from 
behind the glittering silver at its head? Why. that the 
youngster tied by the handkerchief in the high chair at 
L mother's side, pertinaciously kicked h-'-y -^ 
shoes about him in frolic glee, while my little knight of 
the golden locks, did the duty of the trencher at his 
father's elbow 1 Why, that as the shades of evening 
faded into twilight, that the young gentry were snugly 
ensconced m their little bed, the mother s soft cheek 
pressed against the forehead of the eldest as he lisped 
L evening prayer^ .nd why, as soon ;' like twin 
xoses on one stalk," as they were wrapped in innocen 
slumber, we sat in the fading twilight, talking over old 
scenes and boyish recollections, retracing our steps 
back to those days which, softened by the lapse of time, 
appear divested of every thing save brightness and sun- 
shine 1 why but to tell you that we were aroused from 
those retrospections, by the sound of the church-going 
bell, musically chiming in the distance. 



THE COUNTRY PASTOR. 

The slow tolling — now almost dying away, and now 
striking more strongly upon the ear — arose from the 
church in the neighbouring town, where my friends 
were in the habit of worshipping, and where they were 
to have the opportunity on that evening of hearing the 
voice of their time-honoured pastor — an opportunity 
which his great age and increasing infirmities had made 
equally rare and valuable. I gladly accepted the in- 
vitation to join them, as, aside from a desire to see the 
aged man, of whom I had so often heard, if there is a 
time for devotion more consonant to my feelings than 
another, it is when the quietness and serenity of a sum- 
mer's evening dispel all external impressions, and 
every thing appears in unison with harmony and be- 
nevolence. 

As we walked the short half mile between the cot- 
tage and the church, the stars shone in beauty amid the 
still rosy tints of the west — the night-hawk stooped 
towards us, as he wheeled in his airy circles — the 
whip-poor-will in the adjoining meadows sounded his 
mournful note, and the crickets, with the chirping froo-s 
in the neighbouring ponds, sustained a ceaseless cho- 
rus. Arrived at the church-yard, we picked our w^ay 



THE COUNTRY PASTOR. 9 

among the old brown tomb-stones, their quaint devices, 
contrasted here and there with others of more modern 
pretensions in white marble, and entering the church, 
took our seats in silence. We were early; but as 
the church gradually filled, it was interesting to watch 
group after group, as it noiselessly measured the aisles, 
and sunk quietly upon the cushioned seats. Now and 
then a pair of bright eyes would glance curiously 
around from beneath a gay bonnet, and a stray tress 
be thrown hastily aside ; but alas ! those clad in the 
habiliments of wo, too, too often moved, phantom-like, 
to their places ; the lights, as they threw a momentary 
glare on their pale and care-worn faces, making more 
dark the badges which affection has assumed as a 
tame index of inward grief. The slow toll of the bell 
ceased — the silence became more deep ; — an occa- 
sional cough — the rustling of a dress — the turn of a 
leaf alone breaking the perfect stillness. 

The low tones of the organ rose gently and sweetly, 
and the voluntary floated softly and mist-like over the 
assembly ; now rising, and falling, and undulating, with 
like dreamy harmony, as if the ^olian harp were 
answering, with the passing airs playing among its 
strings, the ocean gently laving her pebbly shores ; then 
gradually rising and increasing in depth, it grandly and 
solemnly ascended upwards, till thrown back, reverbra- 
ted from the walls of the circular dome above us, it 
rolled away in deep and distant thunders. All became 



10 THE COUNTRY PASTOR. 

again silent. The venerable form of a man of four- 
score years, his hair bleached with the sorrows of 
eighty winters, rose slowly in the pulpit, and as, with 
eyes closed, yet lifted to Heaven, he feebly supported 
himself with outstretched arms upon its cushion, we 
heard almost in a whisper, " Let us pray, my brethren," 
fall tremulously from his lips. Nought, but the perfect 
stillness, enabled us at first to hear the sentences pro- 
nounced with evident and painful effort ; but as he 
advanced in prayer, that almost whisper, became firm 
and distinct, and his pallid cheek lighted up with a 
hectic flush, as he waxed eloquent in the presence of 
his Maker. 

His venerable features appeared to glow almost with 
inspiration, as he drew near the throne of the Holy 
One ; and the hearts of the mourners beat more calmly, 
as they felt themselves carried into the presence of 
Him that suffered. More thoughtless than the swallow 
that skims the summer skies, must he have been, who 
could have heard that prayer, and not have joined with 
reverence in its solemnity. His closing words still 
ring upon my ear, and long will remain stamped upon 
my memory. 

" My children — your fathers, and your fathers' 
fathers have listend to my voice. Generations have 
passed by me to their long account, and still I have 
been left, and still my voice hath arisen from this holy 
place. Wo ! wo is me, if my Master hath looked 



THE COUNTRY PASTOR. 11 

upon me as a slack and unworthy servant to his people. 
My children — but a few short days, and this trem- 
bling voice that still strives to teach his blessed will, 
shall be hushed in that sleep which the Archangel's 
trump alone shall break — this tottering form be laid 
beneath the mould from whence it came, there to 
remain till that trump shall demand its presence at the 
judgment seat. But with the last tones of this quiver- 
ing voice, with the last grasp of these trembling hands, 
I extend to you the sacred volume, as your guide to 
happiness in this, your only light into the world to 
come. 

" The sneers of human reason and vain philosophy 
shall desert you assuredly, my children, as you stand 
upon the edge of that awful precipice, where each of 
you alone must take the fated plunge into the deep dark- 
ness of the future — but this, this shall make clear your 
passage as brightest noon-day. My children — I look 
back upon you as I speak — my hand is on the door- 
latch — my foot upon the threshold — oh ! when your 
short days like mine are numbered, may you with the 
same reliance in his mercy, say, Lo, blessed Master, 
we stand without — receive us into thy kingdom." 

As the service ended, it was good to see the kind- 
hearted feelin^, with which the consrecration fathered 
around the venerable man — for he was pure, and sin- 
cere, and true ; and of a verity, as he said, his voice 
had arisen amon^ them above the infant's wail, at the 



12 THE COUNTRY PASTOR. 

baptismal font — had joined them with cheerfulness at 
the marriage feast, and still been heard in solemn sym- 
pathy at the side of the dark and silent grave. It was 
the last time that he addressed them. Not many days, 
and another voice pronounced the burial service of the 
dead in that green church-yard, and the form of the 
good old man was covered from their sight beneath its 
sod. 

As we returned to our cottage home, the crescent 
moon was streaming in silvery brightness, the con- 
stellations and galaxy resplendent with "living fires," 
and the far, far worlds rolling in immeasurable distance, 
as twinkling stars trembled upon our human vision. 
The dews of night were moist upon the grass, as we 
re-measured the lawn that led to the cottage ; where, 
after planning our visit for the following morning to 
Mount Vernon, we soon were wrapped in contented and 
grateful repose. 



MOUNT VERNON. 

The sun raised himself in a huge globe of fire above 
the eastern horizon, as my friend's spirited bays stood 
saddled at the door of the cottage, pawing, champing 
the bit, and playfully endeavouring to bite the black 
boy who held them. Finishing an early breakfast, we 
were soon in our saddles and full gallop on our journey ; 
the dogs in an ecstacy of delight, bounding along at 
our sides, overhauling and putting in bodily terror 
every unfortunate cur that came in their way, as they 
sportively tumbled him over and over in curious exami- 
nation ; old Bernard, with glistening eyes and wagging 
tail, bestriding in grim fun the prostrate form of the 
enemy. We passed rapidly through the rough paved 
streets of Alexandria, watching eagerly for its famed 
beauties at their casements, and clearing the town, 
were soon on the rustic road that leads to the sacred 
place of America. 

The meadows were glistening in the morning dew ; 
the sweet perfume of the clover filled the air ; the 
white daisy and delicate cowslip danced over their 
luxuriant grassy beds, as the fresh morning breeze 
fanned them in its passage ; and amid the sea of melo- 
dy high above the merry gossip of the bob-link, the 



14 MOUNTVERNON. 

cliattering volubility of the mocking-bird, his yellow 
spotted breast swelling with delight, his keen eye gaz- 
ing into the distance, the saucy " you-canH-see-me " of 
the meadow lark sounded in merry challenge, while 
the clear " whew- whew- it" of the quail from the golden 
wheat-field, was echoed by his eager companion far 
down in the green vales, as they stretched softly and 
gently into the distance, in the long shadows of the 
early morning. Oh ! let him that would scan the be- 
nevolence of the Creator, leave his restless bed in the 
sweltering city, and walk forth with the day in its 
youth, — for verily, like man, it hath its youth, its man- 
hood and its old age — and the sweetness of morning 
is the youth of the day. 

The hedges on the road side were covered with a 
tangled mass of verdure, from which wild vines and 
green i^y crept to the surrounding trees, wreathing 
gracefully their trunks and branches. The under- 
growth was loaded with wild roses and honey-suckles. 
The graceful fleur-de-lis, curving its blue flowers, 
trembled upon the green banks, and the pond-lily float- 
ing on its watery bed, threw forth its grateful fragrance, 
as we occasionally passed through the swampy bottoms. 
Fat cattle grazed indolently in the meadows ; while 
now and then, as we cantered by their pastures, the 
horses, with tails and manes erect, accompanied us on 
our journey, till arriving at their confines, with eager 
neighing, they would look after us, throw their heels 



MOUNT VERNON. 16 

high in the air, and gallop down into the broad fields in 
the very jollity of freedom. Every thing seemed con- 
tented and joyous. The hearty, happy-looking negroes, 
trudging along to their agricultural labours, doffed their 
hats to us, with a cheerful "good morning," as we pass- 
ed, or laughingly displayed their white teeth and big 
eyes, as they led the dew-wet horse to the bars to 
mount and drive to the milking the smooth, fat kine. 
A ride of an hour brought us to the woods that adjoin 
Mount Vernon, which are cleared of undergrowth, but 
in other respects as wild and untamed as if naught but 
the savage had ever placed foot in them. Silence 
reigned through the deep glades, unbroken, save by 
the hoofs of our horses as they resounded with hollow 
echo ; the sharp chirp of the squirrel, jumping among 
the dry leaves ; or the quick rap, rap, of the wood- 
pecker, as his scarlet head and blue back glanced mo- 
mentarily from some dead trunk upon our eyesight. 
We met with nothing to intercept our progress. Now 
and then, to be sure, a drove of hogs, feeding upon the 
mast in the forest, would marshal themselves in our 
path, stupidly staring at us with a sort of ludicrous, 
half-drunken gravity, snuffing the air, as if determined 
to intercept our progress; but as we came nearer, they 
would whirl short about, and with a simultaneous grunt, 
their tails twisted in the air, gallop off with desperate 
precipitation into the depths of the forest. Journey- 
ing a mile or two further, we came upon the porter's 



16 MOUNTVERNON. 

lodges, at the entrance of the domain proper, which 
were old and ruinous. Proceeding still farther over 
a very bad and rough carriage-road, we came suddenly 
in view of the Potomac ; and Mount Vernon, with its 
mansion-house and smooth, green lawn, lay extended 
before us ; Fort Washington's battlements and cannon- 
filled embrasures in stern silence guarding it from the 
opposite side of the river. 

Fastening our horses, under the guidance of a grey- 
headed old negro, born in the family of General 
Washington, we entered the lawn and came upon the 
rear-front, if the term may be allowed, of an old-fash- 
ioned mansion, surmounted by a cupola and weather- 
cock, semicircular piazzas extending around from each 
end, connecting it with the kitchen and servant's apart- 
ments. Various buildings, all bearing the impress of 
time, were scattered about, evidently in architectural 
order and plan, and the two large gardens, rendered 
interesting by the flowers and plants, still blooming in 
the beds where they had been placed by the hands of 
the General, extended back to the forest from which 
we had just emerged. As we stood for a moment 
looking at the old building, we almost expected to see 
the yellow travelling-carriage of his Excellency, with 
its four beautiful bays, and liveried out-riders, draw up 
at the great hall door in its centre. Having sent in 
our address, we received permission from the courteous 
branch of the family, who now hold the estate, to enter 



MOUNTVERNON. 17 

and survey the interior. We were struck with its ex- 
treme simplicity, the lowness of the walls and ceilings, 
and the bare floors, which were waxed, not, as with us, 
carpeted. The sides of the rooms were composed ex- 
clusively of wooden panels, upon which hung some 
old oil paintings of merit, — engravings of naval actions 
between the English, the Dutch, and the French ; and 
a small enamel miniature, which is considered the best 
likeness extant of Washington. Curiosities of various 
kinds covered the shelves and the mantels, and the 
painted porcelains and china jars, stood in stately 
display behind the glass doors of the old-fashioned 
beaufets in the corners. 

Our attention was arrested for a moment, as we 
passed through one of the rooms, by a large rusty key 
of iron, enclosed in a glass case. It was the key of the 
Bastile, that infernal prison, that monument of centu- 
ries of grinding cruelty and oppression, where men 
vanished, and were seen no more of their day and 
generation, — where, by the intrigues of the courtier, 
the subtle blandishments of the minion of the palace, 
letters de cachet plunged equally the innocent, the im- 
prudent, and the generous, into the jaws of living death, 
— that accursed congerie of dungeons where, from mid 
fellowship of rats and spiders, such scrap of soiled 
paper, written in the blood of the poor prisoner, flutter- 
ing from a loop-hole in its lofty towers, arrests the 
footstep of the casual passenger upon the causeway. 
2 



18 MOUNT VERNON. 

" Mases de Latude, thirty-two years prisoner in the 
Bastile, implores good Christians to intercede for him, 
so that he may once more embrace his poor old father 
and mother, if they yet live, and die in the open 
world." 

Surely, nothing but the hallowed air of Mount Ver- 
non could have prevented the Prince of Darkness from 
bodily carrying off so precious a gem for his cabinet. 
One side of the great drawing-room was ornamented 
with a sculptured mantel in Italian marble, present- 
ed by Lafayette, the other was covered with cases 
containing books of high toned selection, while, from 
the third, its green silk curtain drawn aside, was sus- 
pended a portrait of the present family, by Chapman. 
The figures of the portrait, as large as life, presented 
a lady of middle age, clad in mourning, surrounded by 
a group of children advancing into youth. It was well 
executed, and in the dignified and saddened serenity, 
in the simple and natural grouping, and the pure and un- 
affected expression of the countenances, an American 
in any part of the world, would have at once recognised 
a family group of the more intellectual and refined of 
his own country. As we walked through the various 
rooms, from which the family had withdrawn, we were 
so overcome with the illusion, the work-basket with its 
scissors and thread — the half-opened book lying upon 
the table, the large Bible prominently, not ostentatious- 
ly, in its place, the portraits on the walls, the busts 



MOUNT VERNON. 19 

on their pedestals, — all causing such a vivid impression 
of present life and being, that we almost expected to 
see the towering form of the General entering the door- 
way, or passing over the green lawn spread between 
us and that Potomac which we had so often viewed 
from the same windows. We were at first disappoint- 
ed at not seeing in some conspicuous place, the sword, 
which had so often been extended by the hand whose 
pulses quickened not in the hour of extremest peril, as 
it marshalled the road of human liberty ; but our dis- 
appointment turned to admiration, and our hearts beat 
still higher, as we were referred to, and read this 
clause in his last testament : 

" To each of my four nephews, I bequeath one of 
the swords of which I may die possessed. These 
swords are accompanied with the injunction not to un- 
sheath them for the purpose of shedding blood, except 
it be for self-defence, or in defence of their country 
and its rights ; and in the latter case, to keep them 
unsheathed, and prefer falling with them in their hands 
to the relinquishment thereof." 

Passing through the great hall, ornamented with pic- 
tures of English hunting scenes, we ascended the oak- 
en stair-case, with its carved and antique balustrade ; 
— we stood at the door — we pressed the handle — the 
room and the bed where he died were before us. Noth- 
ing in the lofty drama of his existence, surpassed the 
grandeur of that final scene ; — the cold v/hich he had 



20 MOUNTVERNON. 

taken from exposure, in overseeing some part of his 
grounds, and which resisted the earlier domestic reme- 
dies that were applied, advanced in the course of two 
short days into that frightful form of the disease of the 
throat, laryngitis. — It became necessary for him to 
take to his bed. His valued friend, Dr. Graik, was 
instantly summoned, and assisted by the best medical 
skill of the surrounding country, exhausted all the 
means of his art, but without affording him relief. He 
patiently submitted, though in great distress, to the va- 
rious remedies proposed, but it became evident from 
the deep gloom settling upon the countenances of the 
medical gentlemen, that the case was hopeless ; — ad- 
vancing insidiously, the disease had fastened itself 
with deadly certainty. Looking with perfect calm- 
ness upon the sobbing group around him, he said — 
" Grieve not my friends ; it is as I anticipated from 
the first; — the debt which we all owe, is now about 
to be paid — I am resigned to the event." Request- 
ing Mrs. Washington to bring him two wills from 
his escritoire, he directed one to be burnt, and placed 
the other in her hands, as his last estament, and 
then gave some final instructions t Mr. Lear, his 
secretary and relation, as to the adjustment^of his busi- 
ness affairs. He soon after became greatly distressed^ 
and as, in the paroxysms which became more frequent 
and violent, Mr. Lear, who was extended on the bed 
by his side, assisted him to turn, he, with kindness, but 



M O U N T VE R N O N . 21 

with difficulty, articulated, " I fear I give you great 
trouble, sir, — but — perhaps it is a duty that we all 
owe one to another — I trust that you may receive the 
same attention, when you shall require it." 

As the night waned, the fatal symptoms became 
more imminent — his breath more laboured and suffocat- 
ing, and his voice soon after failed him. Perceiving 
his end approaching, he straightened himself to his 
full length, he folded his own hands in the necessary 
attitude upon his chest — placing his finger upon the 
pulse of the left wrist, and thus calmly prepared, and 
watching his own dissolution, he awaited the summons 
of his Maker. The last faint hopes of his friends had 
disappeared ; — Mrs. Washington, stupified with grief, 
sat at the foot of the bed, her eyes fixed steadfastly 
upon him ; Dr. Craik, in deep gloom, stood with his 
face buried in his hands at the fire,-— his faithful black 
servant, Christopher, the tears uncontrolled trickling 
down his face, on one side, took the last look of his 
dying master; while Mr. Lear, in speechless grief, 
with folded hands, bent over his pillow on the other. 

Nought broke the stillness of his last moments, but 
the suppressed sobs of the affectionate servants collect- 
ed on the stair-case ; the tick of the large clock in the 
hall, as it measured off, with painful distinctness, the 
last fleeting moments of his existence, and the low moan 
of the winter wind, as it swept through the leafless 
snow-covered trees ; the labouring and wearied spirit 



22 MOUNTVERNON. 

drew nearer and nearer to its goal ; the blood languidly 
coursed slower and more slowly through its channels 
— the noble heart stopped — struggled — stopt — flutter- 
ed — the right hand slowly slid from the wrist, upon 
which its finger had been placed — it fell at the side — 
and the manly effigy of Washington was all that re- 
mained, extended upon the death couch. 

We left that room, as those who leave a sick room : 
a suppressed whisper alone escaped us, as, with a sort 
of instinctive silence and awe, we drew the door slowly 
and firmly to its place behind us. We again descended 
the antique stair-case, and emerged upon the lawn, in 
front of the mansion. Passing through several coppices 
of trees, we approached the sepulchre, where rest 
the remains of his earthly semblance. In the open 
arch of a vault composed of brick, secured and firmly 
protected by gates of open iron work, were two large 
sarcophagi of white marble, in one of which, carved 
in high relief, with the arms of the republic, were de- 
posited the remains of him, " who was first in war, 
first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen." 
A marble slab, set into the brick wall of the exterior, 
bearing in black letters simply this inscription — 

" The remains of 
Gcn'l George Washington." 

There rested all that was mortal of the man, whose 
justice--whose virtue — whose patriotism — meet with 



MOUNT VERNON. 



28 



no parallel in human history. There, within the 
smoke of his own hearth-stone, mouldered the remains 
of that towering form, whose spirit, whether in the 
battle, or in the council-hall, in the fierce dissensions 
of public discord, or in the quiet relations of social 
life, shone with the same stern and spotless purity. 

The Potomac glittered like silver, between the trees 
in the noonday sun at our feet; the soft mild breeze 
crently moved the leaves upon the tree tops-the chirp 
of thewren-the drowsy hum of the locust-the quick 
note of the thrush, as she hopped from twig to twig, 
were all that showed signs of life,-and those huge 
sarcophagi lay still-motionless-far, far from voice- 
less Oh ! my countrymen, never since he left us, 
hath it so behoved us to listen,-" While our Father's 
grave doth utter forth a voice." 

We were exceedingly struck and affected by the 

truthfulness of the " Sweet Swan of Avon," as we saw 

above the sarcophagi, (free passage to which was open 

over the large iron gates,) the clayey nest of the martin, 

or common house-swallow, built in the corner of the 

ceiling, where, in perfect security and confidence she 

fed her chirping brood, directly over the head of the 

departed hero. Pure, indeed, was the air, "nimbly 

and sweetly" did it play upon our senses. Oh ! bard 

of England, as standing upon that hallowed spot, the 

spirit of the unfortunate Banquo whispered agam to 

our memories, his words to the murdered Duncan. 



24 MOUNTVERNON. 

*' This castle hath a pleasant seat ; the air 
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
Unto our gentle senses." 

Banquo. » This guest of summer, 

The temple haunting martlet, does approve, 
By his lov'd mansionry, that the heavens' breath, 
Smells wooingly here : no jutty, frieze, buttress, 
Nor coigne of vantage, but this bird hath made 
His pendent bed, andprocreant cradle : Where they 
Most breed and haunt, I have observed, the air 
Is delicate." 

We lingered long at the tomb, and with reluctance 
withdrew, as the advancing day warned us of our home- 
ward returning ride. 

The setting sun, streaming in radiance through the 
trees, measured in long shadows the persons of the 
two men dismounting at the cottage door, from whence 
they had departed so buoyant and joyous in its morning 
brightness. That setting sun, sinking beneath its 
gorgeous bed of crimson, gold and purple, left those 
men more chastened, true, more elevated, from their 
pilgrimage to the shrine of him whose name shall for- 
ever be the watchword of human Liberty. 



THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 

I REMAINED sevcral weeks on my friend Tom's 
plantation, enjoying the course of life that he pursued, 
which was entirely consonant to my tastes. His 
plantation consisted of about three hundred acres, 
principally laid down in wheat, Indian corn and tobacco, 
though some of it still remained in meadow and wood- 
land ; — this, with a handsome productive property in 
the neighbouring towns of Alexandria and Washing- 
ton, afforded him an abundant income to indulge his 
liberal, though not extravagant tastes. He usually 
arose at five in the morning, mounted his horse, and 
rode over the plantation, overseeing and giving instruc- 
tions to the labourers ; and returning, was met by his 
smiling wife and beautiful children at the breakfast 
table ; after which, he again applied himself to business 
until eleven, when he threw all care aside, and devoted 
himself to pleasure or study, for the remainder of the 
day. He thus avoided the two extremes to which 
country gentlemen are liable, — over work on the one 
hand, or ennui on the other. His library — the win- 
dows commanding a view of twenty miles down the 
Potomac — was crowded with a varied store of general 
literature ; among which, I observed shining conspicu- 



26 THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 

ously, the emblazoned backs of Shakspeare, and 
the worthy old Knight of La Mancha. History, 
Travels, the Classics — English, French, Spanish, and 
Italian — and works on Natural History and general 
science, were marshalled on their respective shelves. 
There was also, a small, but very select Medical Libra- 
ry, for my friend had taken his degree in that profession, 
and although relieved from the necessity of practising 
for support, he was in the habit of attending gratui- 
tously on the poor in the neighbouring country. — Mar- 
ble busts of Shakspeare, Milton and Columbus, stood 
on pedestals in the corners of the room, and fine old 
portraits of Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Dante, and Ben 
Jonson, besides an exquisite gem of Ruysdaels hang- 
ing over the fire-place, adorned the walls. On one 
side of the room, fronting the entrance, an efiigy in 
complete polished armour of the fifteenth century, 
stood erect and grim, the mailed gauntlet grasping the 
upright spear ; while, on a withered branch above it, 
was perched with extended wings, a superb American 
Eagle, in full preservation, his keen eye appearing to 
flash upon the intruders at the entrance. In the cen- 
tre, on the soft thick carpet, which returned no sound of 
footsteps, was a circular table surmounted with an 
Argand lamp and writing apparatus ; on one side of 
which, was one of the exquisitely comfortable lounging 
chairs, that admit of almost every position of ease, and 
on the other, a crimson fauteuil stuflTed with down, 



THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 27 

which Tom laughingly said, was for the peculiar bene- 
fit of his wife, when she saw fit to honour his sanctum 
sanctorum with her presence. He tasked his im^en- 
tion to the utmost to make my time agreeable; — 
horses, dogs, guns, books, every thing was at my dis- 
posal. Among other excursions, he proposed, a few 
days after my arrival, that we should take a run down 
the Potomac in his boat. Nov/ this boat was none 
other than a beautiful clipper-built schooner-rigged 
yacht, of about twenty tons burden, with a very ample 
cabin in her centre, and from the gilt eagle on her 
stern, and the gaudy pennant streaming at her mast- 
head, to the taught stay running out to the end of her 
mimic jib-boom, the most complete thing of the kind 
that I ever laid eyes on. In so expressing myself 
when I first saw her, I received an approbatory and 
very gracious nod from " Old Kennedy," a regular old 
salt, with one arm, for whom Tom had built a cottage 
on his estate, and to whom she was beauty personified ; 
— a beauty which he could the more readily appreci- 
ate, from the fact, that the far greater part of his time 
was devoted to her decoration. " Many a time," says 
Tom, "have I found him lying by himself on the 
banks, looking at her in admiration with half-open eyes ; 
and I much doubt whether my Mary looks more beauti- 
ful to me, than does her namesake, as she floats 
yonder, to old Kennedy." 

But to come to our story. We appointed the follow- 



28 THE MEDICAL STUDENT,. 

ing day for our excursion, and, having first ascertained 
that Walter Lee, an old friend, whose plantation was 
a couple of miles below would join us, we early the 
next morning got up our anchor, and under the influ- 
ence of a smacking breeze, were soon cutting our 
way down the river, the white canvass stretching clean 
and taught out to the stays ; our long pennant streaming 
proudly behind us, and our little jack shaking most 
saucily from its slender staff at the bowsprit, as we 
merrily curveted and jumped over the waves. Run- 
ning down to a point on Lee's plantation, we got him 
on board, and were soon under way again, the water 
bubbling and gurgling into our scuppers, as we lay down 
to it in the stiff breeze. Occasionally she would 
sweep, gunwale under, when a flaw would strike her ; 
but old Kennedy, wide awake, would bring her up with 
a long curving sweep, as gracefully as a young lady 
sliding out of the waltz in a crowded ball-room, till, 
stretching out again, she would course along, dancing 
over the mimic waves, with a coquetry equal to those 
same fair damsels, when they find an unfortunate wight 
secure in their chains We were all in fine spirits ; 
Tom's negro boy, seated at the heel of the foremast, 
showing his white teeth, in a delighted grin, as old 
Kennedy, with his grave face, played off nautical wit 
at his peculiar expense. We saw a number of ducks, 
but they were so shy that we could with difficulty get 
a shot at them ; but we now and then succeeded in 



THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 29 

picking half a dozen snipe out of a flock, as it rose 
from the shore, and flew across our bows. We con- 
tinued running down the river in this way, for three or 
four hours, passing now and then a fisherman, or other 
craft, slowly beating up ; but towards noon the breeze 
slackened, — we gradually lost our way — merely undu- 
lating, as the wind fanned by us in light airs, till finally 
it entirely subsided ; our long pennant hanging supinely 
on the shrouds, and the water slopping pettishly against 
our bows, as we rested tranquilly upon its surface. 
The after part of the yacht was covered with an 
awning, which, although sufficiently high to prevent 
its obstructing the view of the helmsman, afforded us 
a cover from the rays of the sun, so that we lay con- 
tentedly, reclining upon the cushions, smoking our 
cigars, enjoying our refreshments, and reviving old 
recollections and associations, for it must be confessed 
that we three, in our student days, had " rung the 
chimes at midnight." I had not seen Lee for several 
years ; — he was a descendant of the celebrated partizan 
officer, who commanded the dashing corps in the Re- 
volution known as Lee's Legion, and inherited, in a 
marked degree, all the lofty courtesy and real chivalry 
that characterized that officer. He was exceedingly 
well read in the military history of the country, and 
indeed so thoroughly imbued with military spirit, that 
should the signal of war ring through the country, I 
know of no man whose hand would so soon be on the 



30 THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 

sword hilt and foot in the stirrup. My introduction to 
his acquaintance was marked by an incident so pecu- 
liarly painful and exciting in its character, that I can- 
not refrain from relating it. Having been let loose 
from the care of my guardians at a very early age, I 
made the first use of my liberty in travelling in a good- 
for-nothing sort of way over Europe, determined to 
see for myself, the grandeur of Old England ; to 
climb the Alps ; to hear the romantic legends of Ger- 
many, in her own dark forests ; to study the painters 
and sculptors of Italy, on her classic soil ; to say no- 
thing of visions of dark-eyed girls of Seville, of sylphs 
and fairies, floating through the ballets and operas of 
Paris, and midnight adventures in the gondolas of Ve- 
nice. Arriving at London, I fell in with, and gladly 
availed myself of the opportunity to take apartments 
in the same house with my friend Tom and his fellow- 
student Lee, both Americans, and both completing a 
course of medical education by attending the lectures 
of the celebrated John Hunter. 

It so happened, that on the very first evening that 
we came together, in conversation upon the peculiar 
features of their profession, I expressed a desire to 
visit a dissecting-room, never having been in one in 
my own country. Lee immediately invited me to ac- 
company them to the lecture on that evening, which 
was to be delivered in the rotunda of the College, and 
where, by going at an early hour, my curiosity could 



THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 31 

be satisfied, besides the opportunity that I should have 
of hearing that eminent surgeon. So pulling on our 
hats and taking our umbrellas in our hands, we plunged 
into the dense fog, and groped our way over the greasy 
pavements to the college. It was a large building, in 
a dark and retired court, with something in its very 
exterior sepulchral and gloomy. Entering the hall 
door, we ascended one pair of stairs, stopping for a 
moment as we passed the second story, to look into 
the large rotunda of the lecture room. The vacant 
chair of the professor was standing near the wall in the 
rear of a circular table of such peculiar construction, 
as to admit of elevation and depression in every part. 
This table was the one upon which the subjects were 
laid when under the hands of the demonstrator. ' Two 
skeletons, suspended by wires from the ceiling, hung 
directly over it ; the room was as yet unoccupied and 
silent. Ascending another flight of stairs, we came to 
a third, secured at its entrance by a strong oaken door ; 
— this appeared to put a stop to our further ascent, but 
upon a small bell being pulled, a sort of wicket in the 
upper part of the door was cautiously drawn aside, 
discovering the features of a stern, solemn-looking man, 
who, apparently satisfied of the right of the parties to 
enter, drew one or two heav}^ bolts, and dropping a 
chain admitted us, A small table was placed at the 
foot of the stairs, at Avhich, by the light of a lamp, this 
gloomy porter was perusing a book of devotion. As- 



32 THE MEDICALSTUDENT. 

cending the stairs, it was not until three several at- 
tempts, that I was enabled to surmount the effects of 
the effluvia sufficiently to enter the green baize door 
that opened into the dissecting-room. As it swung 
noiselessly to behind me, the first sensation produced 
by the sight, was that of faintness ; but it almost imme- 
diately subsided. There appeared a sort of profanity 
in speaking aloud, and I found myself unconsciously 
asking questions of my friends in a low whisper. 

On small narrow tables, in different parts of the 
large room, which, though lighted by a dome in the 
centre, required, in the deep darkness of a London fog, 
the additional aid of lamps, were extended some five 
and twenty human corpses in different stages of dissec- 
tion. (Troups of students were silently engaged with 
their scalpels in examining these wonderful temples 
of the still more wonderful human soul. Here a soli- 
tary individual, with his book open before him upon 
the corpse, followed the text upon the human subject, 
while there, two or three together were tracing with 
patient distinctness the course of the disease which 
had driven the spirit of life from its frail habitation. I 
observed one of the professors in his gold spectacles 
pointing out to a number of the students, gathered 
around one of the subjects, the evidences of an ossifi- 
cation of the great aorta, which had, after years of tor- 
ture, necessarily terminated the life of the sufferer. — 
There was almost as much individuality in those 



THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 33 

corpses as if they had been livmg, and it required 
the most determined effort on my part to divest myself 
of the idea that they were sentient, and aware of all 
that was passing around them. I recollect, particu- 
larly, one, which was lying nearest the door as I en- 
tered ;— it was the body of a man of about forty, with 
light hair, and fair complexion, who had been cut 
down in the midst of health. His face was as full, and 
his skin as white, as if he had been merely sleeping ; 
but the knife had passed around his throat, down his 
body, and then in sections cross-ways ; the internal 
muscles having been evidently exposed, and the skin 
temporarily replaced, during the casual absence of the 
dissector. There was something pecuUarly horrid in 
the appearance of that corpse, as, aside from a ruffianly 
and dissolute expression of the features, the gash 
around his throat conveyed the impression that it was 
a murdered man lying before me. A good-looking, 
middle-aged female was extended just beyond, her 
longhair hanging down over the end of the table, but 
not as yet touched by the hand of the surgeon ; while, 
just beyond her, the body of an old man, from which 
the upper part of the skull had been sawn to take out 
the brain, appeared to be grinning at us with a horrid 
sort of mirth. In another part of the room, directly 
over which the blackening body of an infant was 
thrown across a beam, like a piece of an old carpet, 
was extended the body of a gigantic negro ; he lay 
3 



84 THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 

upon his back, his legs somewhat apart, one of his 
arms thrown up so as to rest upon the top of his head, 
his eyes wide open, his nostrils distended, and his 
teeth clenched in a hideous grin. There was such 
evidence of strength, such giant development of mus- 
cle, such appearance of chained energy and ferocity 
about him, that, upon my soul, it seemed to me every mo- 
ment as if he was about to spring up with a frantic yell, 
and throw himself upon us ; and wherever I went about 
the room, my eyes still involuntarily turned, expect- 
ing to see that fierce negro drawing up his legs ready 
to bound, like a malignant demon, over the intervening 
space. He had been brought home for murder upon the 
high seas, but the jail-fever had anticipated the hand 
of the executioner, and his body of course was given 
over to the surgeons. A far different object lay on 
the floor near him ; it was the body of a young girl 
of about eleven or twelve years old. The poor lit- 
tle creature had evidently died of neglect, and her 
body drawn up by the action of the flexor muscles into 
the form of a bow, stifl^'ened in death, rocked forward 
and backward when touched by the foot ; the sunken 
blue eyes staring sorrowfully and reproachfully upon 
us from the emaciated features. Beyond her, in most 
savage contrast, was thrown the carcass of a Bengal 
tiger, which had died a day or two before in the royal 
menagerie, his talons extending an inch beyond his 
paws, and there was about his huge distended jaws 



THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 35 

and sickly eyes, as perfect a portraiture of disease, 
and pain, and agony, as it has ever been my lot to 
witness in suffering humanity. There was no levity 
about the students, but, on the contrary, a sort of solem- 
nity in their examinations ; and when they spoke, it 
was in a low tone, as if they were apprehensive of 
disturbing the dead around them. I thought at the 
time that it would be well if some of those who sneer 
at the profession, could look in upon one of these even 
minor ordeals to which its followers are subjected in 
their efforts to alleviate the sufferings of their fellow- 
men. 

As the hour for the lecture approached, the stu- 
dents one by one, closed their books, washed their 
hands, and descended to the lecture-room. We de- 
scended with the rest, and as we passed the grim por- 
ter, at the bottom of the stair-case, I observed in the 
corner behind him a number of stout bludgeons, be- 
sides several cutlasses and muskets, A popular com- 
motion a short time previous, among some of the well- 
intentioned but ignorant of the lower classes, had in- 
duced the necessity of caution, and this preparation for 
resistance. Entering the lecture-room, we took our 
places on the third or fourth row of seats from the de- 
monstrator's table, upon which a subject was lying, 
covered with a white sheet, and had time, as the room 
gradually filled, to look about us. Besides the stu- 
dents, Lee pointed out to me several able professional 



35 THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 

gentlemen, advanced in life, who were attracted by 
the celebrity of the lecturer ; among others, Abernethy 
and Sir Astley Cooper. Shortly after we had taken 
our seats, a slender, melancholy looking young man, 
dressed in deep mourning, entered the circle in 
which we were seated, and took his place on the 
vacant bench at my side. He bowed reservedly to 
my companions as he passed them, but immediately 
on sitting down became absorbed in deep sadness. 
My friends returned his salute, but did not appear in- 
clined to break into his abstraction. At the precise 
moment that the lecture was announced to be delivered, 
the tall form of the eminent surgeon was seen de- 
scending the alley of crowded seats to his chair. The 
lights in the various parts of the room were raised 
suddenly, throwing a glare on all around ; and one of 
the skeletons, to which an accidental jar had been 
given, vibrated slowly forward and backward, while the 
other hung perfectly motionless from its cord. In his 
short and sententious manner, he opened the subject of 
the lecture, which was the cause, effect, and treatment 
of that scourge of our country — consumption. His 
remarks were singularly lucid and clear, even to me, 
a layman. After having gone rapidly through the pa- 
thology of the disease, consuming perhaps some twen- 
ty minutes of time, he said, — " We will now, gentle- 
men, proceed to demonstration upon the subject itself." 
I shall not readily forget the scene that followed. As 



THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 37 

he slowly turned up the wristbands of his shirt sleeves, 
and bent over to select an instrument from the case at 
his side, he motioned to an assistant to withdraw the 
sheet that covered the corpse. Resuming his erect 
position, the long knife glittering in his hand, the sheet 
was slowly drawn off, exhibiting the emaciated features 
of an aged woman, her white hair parted smoothly in 
the middle of her forehead, passing around to the back 
of the head, beneath the plain white muslin cap. The 
silence which always arrests even the most frivolous 
in the presence of the dead, momentarily checked the 
busy hum of whispers around me, when I heard a gasp 
—a choking — a rattling in the throat, at my side ; and 
the next instant, the young man sitting next to me, 
rose to his feet, threw his arms wildly upwards, and 
shrieking in a tone of agony, that caused every man's 
heart in that assembly, momentarily to stop — " My 
m-o-Uh-e-r ! " — plunged prostrate and stiff, head fore- 
most upon those in front of him. All was instant con- 
sternation and confusion ;— there was one present who 
knew him, but to the majority of the students, he was 
as much a stranger as he was to my friends. He was 
from one of the adjoining parishes of London, and 
two weeks before, had lost his mother, to whom he was 
much attached, and by fatal mischance, that mother lay 
extended before him, upon the demonstrator's table. 
He was immediately raised, but entirely stiff and in- 
sensible, and carried into an adjoining room ; — sufficient 



88 THE MEDICAL STUDENT. 

animation was at length restored to enable him to stand, 
but he stared vacantly about him, the great beads of 
sweat trickling down his forehead, without a particle 
of mind or memory. The lecture was of course clos- 
ed, and the lifeless corse again entrusted to hands 
to replace it in its tomb. The young man, on the 
following day, was brought sufficiently to himself to 
have memory present the scene again to his mind, and 
fell almost immediately into a raging fever, accompa- 
nied with fierce and violent delirium ; his fever gradu- 
ally abated, and his delirium at intervals ; but when I 
left London for the continent, three months after, he 
was rapidly sinking under the disease which carried 
off his mother— happily in a state of helpless and sense- 
less idiocy ; and in a very short time after, death re- 
lieved him from his misery. The whole scene was so 
thrilling and painful, that, connecting it in some mea- 
sure with my introduction to Lee, his presence always 
recalled it to my memory. 



THE RESURRECTIONISTS. 

As we returned to our lodgings, our conversation 
naturally turned upon the agitating event that we had 
just witnessed, and the extreme caution necessary in 
the procuring of subjects for anatomical examination. 
Lee related an occurrence that had happened to 
Dr. , a gentleman of high standing in South Caro- 
lina. 

Shortly after the American revolution, he visited 
Europe for the purpose of pursuing his medical stu- 
dies, and was received into the family of the same 
distinguished gentleman, whom we had just heard lec- 
ture, then beginning to rise to eminence and notice ; 
an advantage which was necessarily confined to a very 
few. In one of the dark and stormy nights of De- 
cember, Mr. Hunter and his wife having been called 
to the bedside of a dying relative lit the country, as 
Dr. was quietly sitting at the parlour fire, absorb- 
ed in his studies, he was aroused by a hurried ring at 
the street door, and rising, went to answer it himself. 
Upon opening the door, a hackney coach, with its half- 
drowned horses, presented itself at the side of the 
walk, and two men, in slouched hats and heavy sailor 
coals dripping with water, standing upon the steps, 



40 



THE RESURRECTIONISTS. 



inquired in a low tone if he wanted a subject. Being 
answered in the affirmative, they opened the carriage 
door, lifted out the body, which was enveloped in a 
sack, and having carried it up stairs to the dissecting- 
room, which was in the garret, received the two 
guineas which they had demanded, and withdrew. 

The affair was not unusual, and Dr. resuming 

his book, soon forgot the transaction. About eleven 
o'clock, while still absorbed in his studies, he heard a 
violent female shriek in the entry, and the next instant 
the servant maid, dashing open the door, fell senseless 
upon the carpet at his feet, the candlestick which she 
held, rolling some distance as it fell. 

Perceiving that the cause of alarm, whatever it 
might be, was without, he caught up the candlestick, 
and, jumping over her prostrate form, rushed into the 
hall where an object met his view which might well 
have tried the nerves of the strongest man. Standing 
half-way down the staircase, was a fierce, grim-looking 
man, perfectly naked, his eyes glaring wildly and fear- 
fully from beneath a coarse shock of dark hair, which, 
nearly concealing a narrow forehead, partially impeded 
a small stream of blood trickling down the side of the 
face, from a deep scratch in the temple. In one hand 
he grasped a sharp long belt-knife, such as is used by 
riggers and sailors, the other holding on by the ban- 
nister, as he somewhat bent over to meet the gaze of 
the Doctor rushing into the entry. The truth flashed 



THE RESURRECTIONISTS. 41 

across the mind of Dr. in an instant, and with 

admirable presence of mind, he made one spring, catch- 
ing the man by the wrist which held the knife, in a 
way that effectually prevented his using it. " In the 
name of God ! where am I V demanded the man in a 
horror-stricken voice, " am I to be murdered?" " Si- 
lence ! — not a whisper," sternly answered Dr. — , 
looking him steadily in the eyes — " Silence — and 
your life is safe.'' — Wrenching the knife from his 
hand, he pulled him by the arm passively along into 
the yard, and hurrying through the gate, first ran with 
him through one alley, then into another, and finally 
rapidly through a third, till coming to an outlet upon 
one of the narrow and unfrequented streets, he gave 
him a violent push, — retracing his steps again on the 
wings of the wind, pulling too, and doubly locking the 
gate behind him, leaving the object of his alarm per- 
fectly bewildered and perplexed, and entirely ignorant 
of the place from whence he had been so summarily 
ejected. The precaution and presence of mind of 

Dr. -, most probably saved the house of Mr. Hunter 

from being torn down and sacked by the mob, which 
would have been instantly collected around it, had 
the aggrieved party known where to have led them to 
wreak his vengeance. 

After a few days, inquiry was carefully and cau- 
tiously made through the police, and it was ascertained 
that three men answering the description of the resur- 



42 THE RESURRECTIONISTS. 

rectionists and their victim had been drinking deeply 
through the afternoon, in one of the low dens in the 
neighbourhood of Wapping ; that one had sunk intO' a 
stupid state of intoxication, and had, in that situation, 
been stripped and placed in a sack by his companions^ 
a knife having been previously placed in his hand that 
he might relieve himself from his confinement upon his 
return to sensibility ; and that in addition to the poor 
wretch's clothes, they had realized the two guineas 
for his body. 

It is certainly painful, that the requirements of suffer- 
ing humanity should make the occasional violation of 
the grave indispensably necessary. Whether the spirit, 
released from its confinement, lies in the limbo of the 
fathers, the purgatory of the Catholics, awaiting the 
great day of doom ; whether called from a life of vir- 
tue, all time and distance annihilated, it sweeps free 
and unconstrained in heavenly delight through the 
myriads and myriads of worlds, rolling in the vast 
sublimity of space ; whether summoned from a course 
of evil, it shudders in regions of darkness and desola- 
tion, or writhes in agony amid flaming atmospheres ; 
or whether its germ of life remains torpid, as in the 
wheat taken from the Egyptian pyramids, thousands 
of years existent, but apparently not sentient, must, 
of course, be to us but the wild theories of imagina- 
tion, and so remain until that judgment, predicted by 
the holy Revelation, shall sweep away the darkness 



THE RESURRECTIONISTS. 43 

with which, in inscrutable and awful wisdom, the Al- 
mighty has enveloped us. 

But that the spirit can look with other than indiffer- 
ence, if not loathing, on the perishing exuviae of its 
chrysalis existence, which, to its retrospective gaze, 
presents little other than a tasking house of base ne- 
cessities, a chained prison of cruel disappointments, 
even to our human reason, clogged as it is with bars 
and contradictions, appears hardly to admit the opportu- 
nity of question, and of consequence to that spirit its 
disposition can but be a matter of indifference. Still, to 
the surviving friends, whose affection cannot separate 
mind from matter, those forms lying in the still and 
silent tomb, retain all their dear associations, and sure- 
ly it most gravely becomes the members of that pro- 
fession, which, next to the altar, stands foremost in 
benevolence, that the deepest prudence should be ex- 
ercised in this gloomy rite required by the living from 
the dead. 



^ 



OLD KENNEDY, 
THE QUARTER-MASTER. 

(Constitution and Guerriere.) 

No. I. 



The sun became more and more powerful as it 
ascended towards the meridian, and was reflected with 
effulgent intensity from the mirror-surface of the river. 
As we bent over the side and looked far down into the | 
deep vault reflected from above, and saw our gallant i 
little yacht, with her white sails and dark hull, suspend- 
ed with even minute tracery over it, we could almost 
imagine ourselves with the Ancient Mariner, " in a 
painted ship upon a painted ocean." — The white sand- 
banks quivered and palpitated in the sultry glare, and 
the atmosphere of the adjoining swamps hung over 
them in a light blue vapour ; the deadly miasma, their 
usual covering, dissipated in the fervent heat ; while 
the silence was unbroken, save by the occasional 
scream of the gull, as it wheeled about in pursuit of its 
prey, or the quick alarmed cry of the kingfisher, hastily 
leaving some dead branch upon the shore to wing its 
way farther from the object of its terror. The black 



45 



OLD KENNEDY, THE QU A R T E R - M AS T E R. 

boy, in perfect negro elysium, lay stretched fast asleep, 
with his arm resting upon one of the dogs, in the 
blazing sun on the forecastle, while we ourselves, re- 
clined upon the cushions, with our refreshments be- 
fore us, indolently puffed our cigars under the awning, 
Old Kennedy, perched upon the taffrail, coxswain 
fashion, with the tiller between his legs. While 
thus enjoying ourselves, like true disciples of Epicu- 
rus, the guitar was taken from its case in the cabm, 
and accompanied by the rich tones of Walter Lee : 
« Here's a health to thee, Mary," in compliment to our 
kind hostess, swept over the still surface of the river, 
till, dissipated in the distance, and anon the " Wild 
Huntsman," and " Here's a health to all good lassies," 
shouted at the pitch of three deep bass voices, bounded 
over the banks, penetrating the deep forest, causing 
the wild game to spring from their coverts in con- 
sternation at such unusual disturbance of its noontide 
stillness. " W^e bade dull care be gone, and daft the 
time away." Old Kennedy, seated at the tiller, his 
grey hair smoothed down on one side, and almost fall- 
ing into his eyes, his cheek distended with a huge 
quid of tobacco, which gave an habitual drag to a mouth 
whose expression indicated surly honesty and resolu- 
tion, was a perfect portrait of many an old quarter- 
master, still in the service ; while his scrupulously 
clean shirt, with its blue collar open at the neck, dis- 
covering a rugged throat, encircled by a ring of grey 



46 OLDKENNEDY, 

hairs, and his white canvass trowsers, as tight at the 
hips as they were egregiously large at the ancles, in- 
dicated the rig in which he had turned up, for the last 
thirty years, to Sunday muster. The old seaman had 
seen a great deal of service, having entered the navy 
at the opening of the difficulties with the Barbary 
powers, and had been engaged in several of the signal 
naval actions which followed in the subsequent war 
with Great Britain. Previous to that time, he had 
been in the employ of Tom's father, who was an ex- 
tensive shipping merchant at Alexandria, and now, in 
his old age, influenced by an attachment for the son, 
who had built a snug cottage for him on his estate, and, 
vested with the full control of the yacht, he had been 
induced to come down to spend the remainder of his 
days on the banks of the Potomac, enjoying the pension 
awarded by government for the loss of his arm. 

I had previously had the hint given me, that a little 
adroit management would set him to spinning a yarn 
which would suit my fancy. So, watching a good op- 
portunity, knowing that the old man had been with 
Hull in his fight with the Guerriere, I successfully gave 
a kick to the ball by remarking, " You felt rather un- 
comfortable, Kennedy, did you not, as you were bear- 
ing down on the Guerriere, taking broadside and 
broadside from her, without returning a shot. You 
had time to think of your sins, my good fellow, as con- 
science had you at the gangway?" " Well, sir," re- 



THE QUARTER -MASTER. 47 

plied he, deliberately rolling his tobacco from one side 
of his mouth to the other, squirting the juice through 
his front teeth with true nautical grace — " Well, sir, 
that ere was the first frigate action as ever I was en- 
gaged in, and I am free to confess, I overhauled 
the log of my conscience to see how it stood, so it 
mought be I was called to muster in the other world in 
a hurry ; but I don't think any of his shipmates will 
say that Old Bill Kennedy did his duty any the worse 
that day, because he thought of his God, as he has 
many a time since at quarters. There's them as says 
the chaplain is paid for the religion of the ship, and it's 
none of the sailor's business ; but I never seen no harm 
in an honest seaman's thinking for himself. Howdsom- 
ever, I don't know the man who can stand by his gun 
at such time, tackle cast loose, decks sanded, matches 
lighted, arm-chests thrown open, yards slung, marines 
in the gangways, powder-boys passing ammunition 
buckets, ship as still as death, officers in their iron- 
bound boarding caps, cutlashes hanging by lanyards at 
their wrists, standing like statues at divisions, enemy 
may-be bearing down on the weather-quarter — I say, 
I does'nt know the man at sich time, as won't take a 
fresh bite of his quid, and give a hitch to the waist- 
bands of his trowsers, as he takes a squint at the ene- 
my through the port as he bears down. And as you 
say at that particular time, the Guerriere (as is French 
for soger) was wearing and manoeuvering, and throw- 



4S OLDKENNEDY, 

ing her old iron into us, broadside and broadside, like 
as I have seen them Italians in Naples throw sugar- 
plums at each other in Carnival time. — Afore she was 
through, tho', she found it was no sugar-plum work, 
so far as Old Ironsides was consarned. You obsarve, 
when we first made her oat, we seen she was a large 
ship close hauled on the starboard tack ; so we gave 
chase, and when within three miles of her, took in all 
our light sails, hauled courses up, beat to quarters and 
got ready for action. She wore and manceuvered for 
some time, endeavouring to rake, but not making it out, 
bore up under her jib, and topsails, and gallantly 
waited for us. Well, sir — as we walked down to her, 
there stands the old man, (Hull) his swabs on his 
shoulders, dressed as fine in his yellow nankin vest 
and breeches, as if he was going ashore on leave — 
there he stands, one leg inside the hammock nettings, 
taking snuff out of his vest pocket, watching her ma- 
ncEuvres, as she blazed away like a house a-fire, just as 
cool as if he was only receiving complimentary sa- 
lutes. She burnt her brimstone, and was noisy — but 
never a gun fires we. Old Ironsides poked her nose 
steady right down for her, carrying a bank of foam 
under her bows like a feather-bed cast loose. Well, 
as we neared her, and she wears first a-star-board, and 
then a-larboard, giving us a regular broadside at every 
tack, her shot first falls short, but as we shortened the 
distance, some of them begins to come a-board — first 



THE QUARTER- MASTER. 49 

among the rigging, and cuts away some of the stuff 
aloft, for them Englishmen didn't lam to fire low till 
we larnt 'em. First they comes in aloft, but by-and-by, 
in comes one — lower — crash — through the bulwarks, 
making the splinters fly like carpenter's chips, — then 
another, taking a gouge out of the main-mast ; and 
pretty soon agin — ' chW — I recollects the sound of 
that ere shot well — ' chit' — another dashed past my 
ear, and glancing on a gun-carriage, trips up the heels 
of three as good men as ever walked the decks of that 
ere ship ; and all this while, never a gun fires we ; 
but continues steadily eating our way right down on to 
his quarter, the old man standing in the hammock 
nettings, watching her movements as if she was merely 
playing for his amusement. Well, as w^e came within 
carronade distance, them shot was coming on board 
rather faster than mere fim, and some of the young 
sailors begins to grumble, and by-and-by, the old men- 
of-wars-men growled too, and worked rusty — cause 
why — they sees the enemy's mischief, and nothing 
done by us to aggravate them in return. Says Bill 
Vinton, the vent-holder, to me, ' I say, Kennedy,' says 
he, ' what's the use — if this here's the way they fights 
frigates, dam'me ! but I'd rather be at it with the Turks 
agin, on their own decks as we was at Tripoli. It's 
like a Dutch bargain — all on one side. I expects the 
next thing, they'll order pipe down, and man the side- 
ropes for that ere Englishman to come aboard and call 
4 



50 OLDKENNEDY, 

the muster-roll.' * Avast a bit,' says I; 'never you 
fear the old man. No En'glish press-gang comes on 
board this ship — old Blow-hard knows what he's 
about.' 

*' Well, by-and-by Mr. Morris, our first lieutenant, 
who all the while had been walking up and down 
the quarter-deck, his trumpet under his arm, and 
his eyes glistening like a school-boy's just let out to 
play ; by-and-by he begins to look sour, 'ticularly when 
he sees his favourite coxswain of the first cutter carried 
by a shot through the opposite port. So he first looks 
hard at the Old Man, and then walks up to him, and 
says by way of a hint, in a low tone, * The ship is 
ready for action, sir, and the men are getting impa- 
tient ;' — the Old Man never turns, but keeps his eye 
steadily on the enemy, while he replies, * Are — you — 
all ready, Mr. Morris V — ' All ready, sir,' — says the 
lieutenant — * Don't fire a gun till I give the orders, 
Mr. Morris,'— says the old man. Presently up comes 
a midshipman from the main-deck, touches his hat — 
* First division all ready, sir, — the second lieutenant 
reports the enemy's shot have hurt his men, and he can 
with difficulty restrain them from returning their fire ;' 
— ' Tell him to wait for orders, Mr. Morris,' says the 
old man again — never turning his head. Well — just, 
you see, as the young gentleman turned to go below, 
and another shot carries off Mr. Bush, lieutenant of ma- 
lines — just as we begins to run into their smoke, and 



THE QUARTER- MASTER. 51 

even the old gun-boat men, as had been with Decatur 
and Somers, begins to stare, up jumps the old man in 
the air, slaps his hand on his thigh with a report like a 
pistol, and roars out in a voice that reached the gunners 
in the magazines — ^ Now, Mr. Morris, give it to them, 
— now give it to them — fore and aft — round and grape- 
give it to 'em, sir — give it to 'em,' and the words was 
scarce out of his mouth, before our whole broadside 
glanced at half pistol shot — the old ship trembling from 
her keel to her trucks, like an aspen, at the roar of her 
own batteries — instantly shooting ahead and doubling 
across his bows, we gave him the other with three 
cheers, and then at it we went — regular hammer and 
tongs. You would a thought you were in a thunder 
storm in the tropics, from the continual roar and flash 
of the batteries. In ten minutes, his mizen-mast went 
by the board. ' Hurrah ! ' shouts the old man ; 
'hurrah, boys, we've made a brig of her. — Fire 
low, never mind their top hamper ! hurrah ! we'll 
make a sloop of her before we've done.' '* In ten 
minutes more over went her mainmast, carrying 
twenty men overboard as it went ; and sure enough, 
sir, in thirty minutes, that ere Englishman was a sheer 
hulk, smooth as a canoe, not a spar standing but his 
bowsprit ; and his decks so completely swept by our 
grape and cannister, that there was barely hands 
enough left to haul down the colours, as they had 
bravely nailed to the stump of their main-mast. *l 



52 OLD KENNEDY, THE Q U AR T ER- M A S T E R . 

say, Kennedy,' says the vent-holder to me, lying across 
the gun after she struck, looking out at the wrack 
through the port, and his nose was as black as a nig- 
ger's from the powder flashing under it — * I say, I 
wonder how that ere Englishman likes the smell of the 
old man's snuff.'" 



OLD KENNEDY, 
THE QUARTER-MASTER. 

(Sailors Ashore.— Hornet and Peacock.) 

No. II. 

" Well — well — sailors, is queer animals any how — 
and always ready for a fight or frolic — and, so far as 
I sees, it don't much matter which. Now, there was 

Captain , he was a Lieutenant then ;— ^I was up in 

a draft of men, with him to the lakes in the war, and as 
there was no canals nor steamboats in them days, they 
marched us up sojer fashion. As we marched along the 
road, there was nothing but skylarking and frolic the 
whole time, — never a cow lying in the road but the 
lads must ride, nor a pig, but they must have a pull at 
his tail. I recollects, once't, as we was passing a 
farm yard, Jim Albro, as was alongside of me — what 
does Jim do, but jumps over the fence and catches a 
goose out of the pond, and was clearing with it under 
his arm, but the farmer, too quick for him, grabs his 
musket out of his door, and levelling at Jim, roars out 
to drop the goose. Jim catches the goose's neck tight 
in his hand, as it spraddles under his arm, and then 



54 OLDKENNEDY, 

turning his head over his shoulder, cries ont, * You fire, 
— I'll wring his neck off.' And so Jim would have 
got off with the goose, but one of the officers seeing 
what was going on, orders Jim to drop the goose, and 
have a care how he aggravates the honest farmers in 
that ere sort of a way ; for, ' By the powers !' said he, 
* Mister Jim Albro — this isn't the first time, and if I 
hear of the like agin from you, — but your back and the 
boatswain's mate shall scrape an acquaintance the first 
moment we come within the smell of a tarred ratlin.' 

" It was wrong, to be sure, for Bill to take the man's 
goose, seeing as how it was none of his ; but there was 
one affair that same day, as the lads turned up to, and 
though a steady man, I'm free to confess I had a hand 
in't. Why, what do you think sir, but as we what was 
bound for to fight the battles of our country — what do 
you think, but as we comes to one of them big gates 
they has on the roads, but the feller as keeps it, 
damme, sir, what does he do ? but makes all fast, and 
swear that we sha'nt go through without paying ! I'm 
free to confess, sir, that that ere gate went off its hinges 
a little quicker than the chain of our best bower ever 
run through the hawse hole. A cummudgeonly son of 
a land lubber, — as if, because we did'nt wear long-tail 
coats, and high-heel boots, we was to pay like horses 
and oxen ! If the miserable scamp had'nt 've van- 
ished like a streak into the woods, we'd have paid him 
out of his own tar bucket, and rolled him over in the 



THE QUARTER-MASTER. 66 

feathers of one of his wife's own beds. But, d'ye see, 
that was'nt the end of it. Them ere lawyers gets 
hold of it — and it was the first time any of them land- 
shirks ever came athwart my hawse. 

" When we gets to the next town, up comes a con- 
stable to the midshipman, supposing as how he was in 
command of the draft — up comes the constable, and 
says, says he, * Capting, I arrests you for a salt and 
battery, in behalf of these here men, as has committed 
it,' meaning, you understand, the affair of the gate, 
Well, the midshipman, all ripe for frolic and fun him- 
self, pulls a long face, and says gruffly, that his men 
had'nt been engaged in no salt, on no battery ; but that 
they was ready at all times to fight for their country, 
and asks him whereaway that same English battery 
lay, as he would answer for the lads' salting it quick 
enough. Then the lawyer as was standing with his 
hands behind him, up and tells him that ♦' it's for a tres- 
pass in the case.' * Oh ! a trespass in the gate — 
you mean,' says the midshipman ; but just then the 
lieutenant comes up to see what's the muss, and bids 
me put on my jacket, for d'ye see, I had squared off to 
measure the constable for a pair of black eyes — hang 
me if the feller didnt't turn as white as a sheet. * Put 
on your jacket, sir,' says he, 'and leave the man 

alone ;' and then turning to the midshipman, 'Mr. ^ 

take the men down to the tavern and splice the main- 
brace, while I walk up to the justice's with the gentle 



66 OLDKENNEDY, 

man to settle this affair. And, liark'ee, ye rascals/ 
says he, ' don't disgrace the name of blue jacket in 
this quiet village, but behave yourselves till 1 return.' 
Well, he and the lawyer walks up to the justice's, and 
there they three takes a glass of wine together, and 
that's the last we hearn of that ere business. 

" There agin, when we took the Peacock ; — you all 
knows about Ihat ere action ; it was what I calls short 
and sweet. Fifteen minutes from the first gun, he was 
cut almost entirely to pieces, his main-mast gone by 
the board, six feet of water in the hold, and his flag 
flying in the fore-rigging, as a signal of distress. The 
sea was running so heavy, as to wash the muzzles of 
our guns, as we run down. We exchanged broad- 
sides at half pistol shot, and then, as he wore to rake us, 
we received his other broadside, running him close in 
upon the starboard quarter, and a drunken sailor never 
hugged a post closer, nor we did that brig, till we 
had hammered day-light out of her. A queer thing is 
war, though, and I can't say as I was ever satisfied as 
to its desarts, though I 've often turned the thing 
over in my mind in mid-watch since. There was we, 
what was stowing our round shot into that ere brig, as 
if she had been short of kenteledge, and doing all we 
could to sweep, with our grape and cannister, every 
thing living, from her decks, — there was we, fifteen 
minutes after, working as hard as we could pull to, to 
keep her above water, while we saved her wounded, 



THE QUARTER- MASTER. 67 

and the prisoners, like as she had been an unfortunate 
wrack, foundering at sea. But all would'nt do — down 
she went, carrying thirteen of her own wounded, be- 
sides some of our own brave lads, as was exerting 
themselves to save them, and mighty near did Bill 
Kennedy come to being one of the number, and having 
a big D marked agin his name, on the purser's book, 
at that same time. The moment she showed signals 
of distress, all our boats was put in requisition to 
transport the prisoners and wounded to the Hornet. 

I was in the second cutter, with midshipman C ; 

he was a little fellow then, tho' he's a captain now. 
Well, we stowed her as full as she could stow, and I 
was holding on by the boat-hook in the bows, jist ready 

to push off, when midshipman C , jumps aboard 

agin, and runs back to call a couple of the Englishmen, 
as was squared off at each other, at the foot of the 
main hatch ladder, settling some old grudge — (for d'ye 
see, sir, all di5C?/pline is over the moment a ship strikes) 
— he runs back to tell them to clear themselves — for 
the ship was sinking, — but before he could reach it, 
she rolls heavily, sways for an instant from side to side, 
gives a heavy lurch, and then, down she goes head 
foremost, carrying them fellers as was squared off agin 
each other, and her own wounded, besides four or five 
of our own brave lads, right down in the vortex. Our 
boat spun round and round like a top, for a moment, and 
then swept clear, but the midshipman barely saved 



58 OLD KENNEDY, THE Q U AR T E R -M A S T E R , 

himself, by springing into an empty chest as was floats 
ing by, and there he was dancing about in the heavy sea, 
hke a gull in the surf, and it was nigh on two hours 
afore we picked him up ; but the little fellow was jist 
as cool and unconsarned, as if he was in a canoe on a 
fish-pond. The next day we opens a subscription, and 
furnishes all the British seamen with two shirts, and 
a blue jacket and trowsers each, — cause why — d^ye 
see, they'd lost all their traps in their ship when sh& 
went down." 



OLD KENNEDY, 
THE QUARTER-MASTER. 

(Perry's Victory on Lake Erie.) 

No. III. 

" But," says I, "Kennedy-I think you said yom 
draft was bound for the lakes-which did you go to, 
Ontario, or Erie ?' ' " I was on both,sir," says he, " afore 
the war was over ; and we got as much accustomed to 
poking our flying jib-boom into the trees on them 
shores, as if the sticks was first cousins-which, see- 
in. as how the ships was built in the woods, would n 
be°much of a wonder. Part of that ere draft staid 
down on Ontario, with the old commodore, as was 
watching Sir James, and part was sent up to Erie, 
went up to Erie and joined the Lawrence, Commodore 
Oliver H. Perry-and I hopes that old Bill Kennedy 
need'nt be called a braggart, if he says he did his part 
in showing off as handsome a fight on that same fresh- 
water pond, as has ever been done by an equal force 
on blue water. Our gallant young commodore, made 
as ti.'ht a fight of it as it has ever been my luck to be 
engrged in ; and seeing as how half of his men was 



60 OLDKENNEDY, 

down with fever and ager, and not one in a dozen 
knew the difference between the smell of gun-powder 
and oil of turpentine, blow me ! but I think it was 
about as well done. 

*' You see our squadron was lying in a bay, as they 
calls Put-in-Bay — and when the enemy first hove in 
sight, it was in the morning, about seven o'clock. I 
knows that that was the time, because I had just been 
made Quarter- Master, by Captain Perry, and was the 
first as seen them through my glass. They was in the 
nor'-west, bearing down : as soon as we made them 
out to be the enemy's fleet, up went the signal to get 
under way ; our ship, the Lawrence, in course tak- 
ing the lead. Well, as we was working slowly to 
windward to clear some small islands — one of 'em was 
Snake Island — I hearn Captain Perry come up to the 
master, and ask him in a low voice, whether he thought 
he should be able to work out to windward in time to 
get the weather-gage of the enemy ; but the master 
said as how the wind was sou'-west, and light, and he 
did'nt think he could. ' Then,' said the commodore, 
aloud, ' wear ship, sir, and go to leeward, for I am 
determined to fight them to-day,'— but just then, the 
wind came round to the south'ard and east'erd, and we 
retained the weather-gage, and slowly bore down upon 
the enemy. They did all they could to get the wind, 
but not succeeding, hove into line, heading westward, 
and gallantly waited for us as we came down. 



THE QUARTER-MASTER. 61 

" There lay their squadron, all light sails taken in, 
just like a boxer, with his sleeves rolled up, and hand- 
kercher tied about his loins, ready to make a regular 
stand-up fight, and there wasn't a braver man, nor bet- 
ter sailor, in the British navy, nor that same Barclay, 
whose broad pennant floated in the van of that squad- 
ron. 

" Pretty soon, up runs our motto-flag, the dying words 
of our hero Lawrence — ' Don't give up the ship,'' and 
floats proudly from our main, and then the general order 
was passed down the line by trumpet, ' Each ship, lay 
your enemy alongside' — and if you ever seen a flock 
of wild geese flying south' erd in the fall of the year, 
you'll have some idee of us, as we went down into 
action. The men was full of spirit, and panting for 
a fight, and even them as was so sick, as to be hardly 
able to stand, insisted upon taking their places at the 
guns. I recollects one in particular — he was a car- 
penter's mate, a steady man, from Newport — he crawls 
up when we beat to quarters, and seats, himself upon 
the head of one of the pumps, with the sounding-rod 
in his hand, looking as yellow as if he had just been 
dragged out of a North Carolina cypress swamp : but 
one of the officers comes up to him as he was sitting 
there, and says — * You are too sick to be here, my man, 
— there's no use of your being exposed for nothing — ■ 
you had better go below.' ' If you please, sir," says 
the poor fellow, ' if I can do nothing else, I can save 



62 OLDKENNEDT, 

the time of a better man. and sit here and sound the 
pump." Well, sir, as we bore down, the English oc- 
casionally tried our distance by a shot, and when we 
was within about a mile of 'em, one comes ricochetting 
across the water, bounds over the bulwarks, and takes 
that man's head as clean off his shoulders, as if it had 
been done with his own broad-axe. I have hearn say, 
that ' every bullet has its billet,' and that is sartin, that 
it's no use to dodge a shot, for if you are desi^ined to fall 
by a shot, you will sartin fall by that same shot ; and 
I bears in mind, that an English sailor, one of our pri- 
soners, told me that in a ship of their'n a feller, as 
skulked in the cable-tier, during an action with the 
French, was found dead with a spent forty-two resting 
on his neck. The ball had come in at the starn-port — 
struck one of the beams for'ard, and tumbled right in 
upon him, breaking his neck, as he lay snugly coiled 
away in the cable-tier. No, no — misfortins and can- 
non shot is very much alike — there's no dodging — 
every man must stand up to his work, and take his 
chance — if they miss, he is ready when tbey pipes to 
grog — if they hit, the purser's book is squared, and no 
more charges is scored agin him. 

But as I was saying, it was'nt long before we begun 
to make our carronades tell, and then at it we went, hot 
and heavy, the Lawrence taking the lead, engaging the 
Detroit, and every vessel as she came up, obeying or- 
ders and laying her enemy alongside, in right good 



THE QUARTER-MASTER. 63 

arnest, except the Niagara. She hung back — damn her 
— with her jib brailed up, and her main-topsail to the 
mast — consequence was, the Charlotte, as was her op- 
ponent, avails herself of her distance — runs up close 
under the starn of the Detroit, and both ships pours 
in their combined fire into our ship the Lawrence. 
^' I hearn the master myself, and afterwards two or 
three of the other officers, go up to the Commodore du- 
ring the action, and call his attention to the Niagara, 
and complain of her treacherous or cowardly conduct. 
Well, them two ships gin it to us hot and heavy, and 
in three minutes we was so enveloped in smoke, that 
we only aimed at the flashes of their guns, for we 
might as well have tried to trace a flock of ducks in 
the thickest fog on the coast of Labrador, as their spars 
or hulls. I was working at one of the for'ard guns, and 
as after she was loaded, the captain of the piece stood 
waiting with the trigger lanyard in his finger, ready to 
pull, one of the officers calls out, " I say, sir, why don't 
you fire.' ' I want to make her tell, sir,' says the 
gunner, — I am waiting for their flash, — there it is' — 
and as he pulled trigger, a cannon shot came through 
the port, and dashed him to pieces between us, covering 
me and the officer all over with his brains. Their fire 
was awful ; the whole of the shot of the two heaviest 
ships in the squadron pouring into us nigh on two 
hours without stopping. Our brig became a com- 
plete slaughter-house — ^the guns dismounted — carriages 



64 OLDKENNEDY, 

knocked to pieces — some of our ports knocked into 
one — hammock-netting shot clean away — iron stan- 
cheons twisted like wire — and a devilish deal more 
daylight than canvass in our bolt ropes — the wounded 
pou]ing down so fast into the cockpit, that the surgeons 
didn't pretend to do more than apply tourniquets to 
stop the bleeding ; and many of the men came back 
to the guns in that condition ; while others was killed 
in the hands of the surgeons. One shot came through 
the cockpit, jist over the surgeon's head, and killed 
midshipman Laub, who was coming up on deck, with 
a tourniquet at his shoulder, and another killed a sea- 
man who had already lost both arms. Our guns was 
nearly all dismounted ; and finally, there was but one 
that could be brought to bear ; and so completely was 
the crew disabled, that the commodore had to work at 
it with his own hands. The men became almost furi- 
ous with despair, as they found themselves made the 
target for the whole squadron ; and the wounded com- 
plained bitterly of the conduct of the Niagara, as they 
lay dying on the decks, and in the cockpit. Two shots 
passed through the magazine — one knocked the 
lantern to pieces, and sent the lighted wick upon the 
floor ; and if the gunner hadn't have jumped on it with 
his feet, before it caught the loose powder — my eyes ! 
but that ere ship and every thing on board would have 
gone into the air like a sheaf of sky-rockets, and them 
as was on board, never would have know'd which side 



THE QUARTER- MASTER. 65 

whipped. Out of one hundred men that went into 
action, eighty-three were either killed or wounded, and 
every ofFicer was killed or hurt except the Commodore. 
Our Lieutenant of marines, lieutenant Brooks — him as 
was called the Boston Apollo — the handsomest man in 
the sarvice, was cut nearly in two by a cannon shot, 
and died before the close of the action. 

"It was nigh on all up with us. The men was real 
grit though, and even the wounded, cried, ' Blow her 
up,' rather than strike. Well, as things stood, there 
was an end of the Lawrence, so far as fiohtino- went, — 
and our Commodore says, says he, — ' Lieutenant 
Yarnall, the American flag must not be pulled down 
over my head this day, while life remains in my body : 
I will go on board that ship and bring her myself into 
action — and I will leave it to you to pull down the Law- 
rence's flag, if there is no help for it.' So we got our 
barge alongside, by the blessing of Heaven, not so 
much injured but what she'd float, and off we push- 
ed for the Niagara — the Commodore standing with his 
motto flag under his arm ; but as soon as the enemy 
caught sight of us, they delivered a whole broadside 
directly at the boat — and then peppered away so brisk- 
ly, that the water all around us bubbled like a duck- 
pond in a thunder shower. There Perry stood, erect 
and proud, in the starn sheets — his pistols strapped in 
his belt, and his sword in his hand — his eyes bent upon 
the Niagara, — as if he'd jump the distance, — never 
6 



QQ OLDKENNEDT, 

heeding the shot flying around him like hail. The men 
begaed him to sit down-they entreated him with tears 
in their eyes-but it was not until 1 dragged him down 
by main force.-the men declaring that they would 
lay upon their oars and be taken-that he consented. 
"There's them as says the Niagara wouldn't come 
down, and there's them as says she co«W»'«-all I 
knows is, that when our gallant young Commodore 
took the quarter-deck, she walked down into the thick- 
est of it quick enough-my eyes ! how we did give it 
to 'em, blaring away from both sides at once. We 
ran in between the Detroit and Charlotte, our guns 
crammed to the muzzle, and delivered both of our broad- 
sides into them at the same time-grape, cannister and 
all -raking the others as we passed ; and the Niagara 
lais showed it wasn't no fault of their'n, that they 
hadn't come earlier to their work. I never know d 
guns sarved smarter, than they sarved their n, till the 
end of the action-nor with better efi-eet. We soon si- 
lenced the enemy, and run up the stars again on the 
Lawrence as she lay a complete wrack, shattered and 
cut up among them, for all the world like a dead whale 
surrounded by shirks. They struck one after another, 
„uch like you may have seen the flags of a fleet run 
down after the evening gun ; and as the firing ceased, 
and the heavy smoke bank rolled oflf to leeward, shiver 
„y timbers ! but it was a sight for a Yankee tar to see 
the striped bunting slapping triumphantly in the breeze 
over the British jacks at their gas's. 



THE QUARTER. MASTER. 67 

"If there's any man, tho', as says that their 
Commodore wasn't a man every inch of him, aye ! 
and as good a seaman, too, as ever walked a caulked 
plank, there's one here, and his name's Bill Kennedy, 
as will tell him, that he's a know-nothing, and talks 
of a better man nor himself. Aye — aye — scrape the 
crown off his buttons, and he might mess with De- 
catur and Lawrence, and splice the main-brace with 
Stewart and Hull, and they be proud of his company. 
He was badly cut up, tho', and I have hear'n tell, 
that when he got home to England, he would'nt go for 
to see the lady what he'd engaged to marry, but sent 
her word by a friend — I don't know who that friend 
was — but suppose it was his first lieutenant, in course, 
— he sends her word that he would'nt hold her to her 
engagement — cause why, says he, ' I'm all cut to 
pieces, and an't the man I was, when she engaged 
for to be my wife.' Well, what d'ye think the noble 
girl says, when she hearn this; — 'Tell him,' says 
she, ' as long as there's enough of him left to hold 
his soul, I will be his.'— I say, Master Tom, that's 
most up to the Virginny gals. Well — well — there 
never was but one, as would have said as much for 
Bill Kennedy, and she, poor Sue — she married curly- 
headed Bob, captain of the main-top in the Hornet, — 
in a pet, and was sorry when it was too late. She 
was a good girl, though — and I've lent her and her 
young ones a hand once't or twice since in the breakers. 



OLD KENNEDY, 
THE QUARTER-MASTER. 

(Chesapeake and Shannon— Boat Fight on Lake Ont-ario.) 

No. IV. 

'' Well, Mr. Kennedy," says Lee, ' you have told 
us of your victories, — have you always been victori- 
ous — have you always had the luck on your side, — 
where did you lose your arm ?" The old man took 
a long and deliberate survey of the horizon ahead of 
us, apparently not well pleased with a dark cloud just 
beginning to lift itself above its edge ; but whatever 
inferences he drew from it he kept to himself, and 
having relieved his mouth from the quid, and replenish- 
ed the vacuum by a fresh bite of the pig-tail, he leisurely 
turned to us again, and replied with some emphasis — 
* Them as fights the English, fights men — and though 
it's been my luck to be taken twice by them, once't in 
the unlucky Chesapeake, and once't on the lakes, and 
though I owes the loss of my flipper to a musket marked 
G.R., I hopes I bears them no more grudge than be- 
comes a true yankee sailor. Now, speaking of that, I've 
always obsarved, since the war, when our ships is in 



OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER- MASTER. 69 

the same port, that however much we always fights, 
when we falls in with each other, that the moment 
the English or Americans gets into a muss with the 
French, or the Dutch, or the Spaniards, that we 
makes common cause, and tumbles in and helps one 
another — but I'm blest ! but that Chesapeake business 
was a bad affair. They took the ship ; — let them have 
the credit of it, say I ; — but no great credit neither ; for 
half the men was foreigners in a state of mutiny, and 
none of the men know'd their officers. I hearn Cap- 
tain Lawrence say himself, after he was carried below, 
that when he ordered the bugle-man to sound, to repel 
boarders, the cursed Portuguese was so frightened, or 
treacherous, that no sound came from the bugle, though 
his cheeks swelled as if in the act ; and I hearn a 
British officer say to one of our'n, that Captain Law- 
rence owed his death to his wearing a white cravat 
into action, and that a sharp-shooter in their tops pick- 
ed him off, knowing as how, that no common man would 
be so dressed. I don't complain of their getting the 
best of it, for that's the fortune of war ; but they be- 
haved badly after the colours was hauled down. They 
fired down the hatches, and " — lifting his hat, and ex- 
hibiting a seam that measured his head from the crown 
to the ear — " I received this here slash from the cutlash 
of a drunken sailor, for my share, as I came up the 
main-hatch, after she surrendered — My eyes ! all the 
stars in heaven was dancinsf before me as I tumbled 



70 OLDKENNEDY, 

back senseless on the gun-deck below ; and when 
they brought the ship into Halifax, she smelt more like 
a slaughter-house nor a Christian man-of-war. How- 
somever, they whipt us, and there's an end of the mat- 
ter — only I wish't our gallant Lawrence might have 
died before the colours came down, and been spared 
the pain of seeing his ship in the hands of the enemy. 
It was what we old sailors expected, though. She 
was an unlucky ship, and that disgraceful affair be- 
tween her and the Leopard, was enough to take the 
luck out of any ship. Now if it had been " Old Iron- 
sides," * or the " Old Wagon," f I'l^ blessed ! but 
the guns would have gone off themselves, had the 
whole crew mutinied and refused to come to quarters, 
when they heard the roar of the British cannon — aye, 
aye, Old Ironsides' bull-dogs have barked at John Bull 
often enough, aye, and always held him by the nose, 
too, when they growled — but the Chesapeake's colours 
was hauled down, while the Shannon's was flying. — 
That's enough — we had to knock under — let them 
have the credit of it, say I. — They'd little cause, ex- 
cept in that ere fight, to crow over the Yankee blue 
jackets. They whipt us, and there's an end of the 
matter, and be damned to 'em. — But that ain't answer- 
ing your question, as how I lost my larboard flipper. 
It wasn't in that ere unfortunate ship, altho' if it would 

* Frigate Constitution. t Frigate United States. 



THE QU A R TE R - M A S T E R . 71 

have saved the honour of the flag, Bill Kennedy would 
willingly have given his head and his arms too — but it 
was under Old Chauncey on Lake Ontario. It was in 
a boat expedition on that 'ere lake, that I first got a 
loose sleeve to my jacket, besides being made a pris'- 
ner into the bargain. You see. Sir James was shut up 
in Kingston, and beyond the harbour there was a long 
bay or inlet setting up some three or four miles. Now, 
the Commodore thought it mought be, there was more 
of his ships in that same bay ; so he orders Lieutenant 
, him as the English called the 'Dare-devil Yan- 
kee,' — the same as went in with a barge the year be- 
fore and burned a heavy armed schooner on the stocks, 
with all their stores, and came away by the light of it 
— at — at — I misremember the place — he orders him 
to proceed up the bay to reconniter — to see whether 
there was any of the enemy's ships at anchor there — 
to get all the information he could of his movements, 
and to bring ofl" a prisoner if he could catch one — that 
the Commodore mought overhaul him at his leisure. 
So the lieutenant takes a yawl as we had captured 
some days before, having Sir James's own flag painted 
upon her bows, with midshipman Hart, and eight of us 
men, and pulls leisurely along shore, till we made the 
entrance of the bay. It was a bright summer after- 
noon, and the water was as calm as the Captain's hand- 
basin — not a ripple to be seen. Well, the entrance 
was narrow, and somewhat obstructed by small islands ; 



72 O L D K E N N E D Y , 

but we soon got through them, never seeing two heavy 
English men-of-war barges, as was snugly stowed in 
the bushes ; but about three miles up, we spies a raft 
of timber, with two men on it. We gave way, and be- 
fore long got up abreast of it. When we got close 
aboard the raft, the lieutenant hailing one of the men, 
calls him to the side nearest the boat, and says — ' My 
man, what are you lying here for, doing nothing — the 
wind and tide are both in your favour — don't you know 
we are waiting down at Kingston for this here timber 
for his Majesty's sarvice — what are you idling away 
your time for here?' The feller first looks at Sir 
James's flag painted upon the bows of the yawl ; and 
then at the lieutenant, and then again at the flag — and 
then at the lieutenant — and then opens his eyes, and 
looks mighty scarey, without saying anything, with his 
mouth wide open, — ' I say,' says the Lieutenant agin, 
' I say, you feller with the ragged breeches, do you 
mean to swallow my boat — why don't you answer — 
what the devil are you doing here ? ' The feller 
scratches his head, and then stammers, * I — I — / know 
you — you are him as burnt Mr. Peter's schooner last 
year.' ' Well,' says the Lieutenant, ' what are you 
going to do with this here timber.' ' I'm carrying it 
down for a raising,' says he. ' What ! ' says the 
Lieutenant, ' do you use ship's knees and transom 
beams for house raising in this part of the country ? 
It won't do, my man. Bear a hand, my lads, and pile 



THE QUARTER- MASTER. 73 

all the boards and light stuff in the centre, and we'll 
make a bonfire in honour of his most sacred Majesty.' 
So we set fire to it, and took the spokesman on board 
the yawl, — towing the other man in their skifT astarn, 
intending to release them both when we had got all the 
information that we wanted out of them. We returned 
slowly down the bay again, the blazing raft making a 
great smoke ; but as we neared the outlet, what does 
we see, but them two heavy barges pulling down to cut 
us off. We had to run some distance nearly parallel 
with them, an island intervening — so we every moment 
came nearer to them, and soon within speaking dis- 
tance. The men gave way hearty — in fear of an Eng- 
lish prison, but as we came nearer each other, some of 
the officers in the English boats recognises Lieutenant 

, cause why — they had been prisoners with us 

— and hails him — " G ," says they, ' you must sub- 

mit, it's no use for you to resist, we are four to your 
one. Gome, old feller, don't make any unnecessary 
trouble, but give up — you've got to knock under.' The 
Lieutenant said nothing, — but he was a particular man, 
and had his own notions upon the subject, for, bidding 
the men give way, he coolly draws sight upon the 
spokesman with his rifle, and most sartin, as he was a 
dead shot, there would have been a vacant commission 
in His Majesty's Navy, hadn't the raftsman, who was 
frightened out of his wits, caught hold of him by the 
tails of his coat and dragged him down into the bottom 



74 OLDKENNEDY, 

of the boat. The Lieutenant drops his rifle, and 
catches the feller by his legs and shoulders and heaves 
him clear of the boat towards the skiff — while we men, 
dropping our oars, gave them a volley with our muskets, 
and then laid down to it again. We had taken them 
by surprise, but as we dashed along ahead, they re- 
turned our fire with interest, peppering some of our lads 
and killing Midshipman Hart outright, who merely ut- 
tered an exclamation as his oar flew up above his head, 
and he fell dead in the bottom of the boat. Well, we 
see'd the headmost barge all ready, lying on her oars 
and waiting for us, and as there was no running the 
gauntlet past her fire, we made for another opening 
from the bay as didn't appear to be obstructed, but as 
we nears it, and just begins to breathe free, three boats 
full of lobsters, of red-coats, shoots right across, and 
closes the entrance effectually on that side. We was 
in a regular rat-trap. We had been seen and watched 
from the moment we had got inside of the bay, burning 
the raft and all. ' Well, my lads,' says the Lieute- 
nant, ' this will never do — we must go about — hug the 
shore close, and try to push by the barges.' So about 
we went, but as we neared the shore, there was a par- 
ty of them 'ere riflemen in their leggins and hunting- 
shirts, all ready for us, waiting just as cool and uncon- 
sarned as if we was a parcel of Christmas turkies, 
put up for them to shoot at. ' Umph,' says the Lieu- 
tenant again, ' 'twon't do for them fellers to be crack- 



THE QUARTER-MASTER. 75 

ing their coach-whips at us neither — we've nothing to 
do for it, my boys, but to try our luck, such as it is, 
with the barges.' So as we pulled dead for the en- 
trance of the bay, they lay on their oars, all ready for 
us, and as we came up, they poured such a deadly fire 
into that ere yawl as I never seed before or since. 
There was nineteen wounds among eight of us. The 
Lieutenant was the only one unhurt, though his hat 
was riddled through and through, and his clothes hung 
about him in tatters. How he was presarved, is a mi- 
racle, for he was standing all the while in the starn- 
sheets, the most exposed of any on board. They kept 
firing away, as if they intended to finish the business, 
and gin no quarter, the men doing what little they 
could to pull at the oars ; but a boat of wounded and 
dying men couldn't make much headway. Our men 
was true Yankee lads, tho' — and no flinching. 

•' There was one man named Patterson, as pulled 
on the same thwart with me, and of all the men I've 
ever sailed with, he showed most of what I calls real 
grit. At their first volley, he gets a shot through his 
thigh, shattering the bone so that it hung twisted over 
on one side, but he pulls away at his oar as if nothing 
had happened. Presently another passes through his 
lungs, and comes out at his back — still he pulls away, 
and didn't give in ; — at last, a third takes him through 
the throat, and passes out back of his neck; — then, 
and not till then, did he call out to the lieutenant — 



76 OLDKENNEDY, 

*Mr. G — , I'm killed, sir; — I'm dead ; — I can't do no 
more.' So the lieutenant says — ' Throw your oar 
overboard, Patterson, and slide down into the bottom 
of the boat, and make yourself as comfortable as you 
can.' Well — what does Patterson do, as he lays in 
the bottom of the boat bleeding to death, what does he 
do but lifts his arm over the gunwale, and shaking his 
fist, cry, ' Come on, damn ye, one at a time, and I'm 
enough for ye as I am.' Aye, aye, Patterson was what 
I calls real grit. He was a good, quiet, steady man, 
too, on board ship ; always clean and actyve, and cheer- 
ful in obeying orders. Howsomever, his time had 
come, and in course there was an end of his boat duty 
in this world. 

"Well — they continued to fire into us as fast as 
they could load, cause why, they was aggravated 
that so small a force should have fired into them ; 
but the lieutenant takes off his hat and makes a 
low bow, to let them know as how he had surrendered, 
and then directs me to hold up an oar's blade ; but they 
takes no notice of neither, and still "peppered away ; 
but just as we concludes that they didn't intend to give 
no quarter, but meant to extarminate us outright, they 
slacks firing, and, taking a long circuit, as if we'd have 
been a torpedo, or some other dangerous combustible, 
pulled up aboard. There wasn't much for them to be 
afeard on though, for with the exception of the lieute- 
nant, who was untouched, there was nothing in the boat 



THE QUARTER- MASTES. 77 

but dead and wounded men. They took us in tow, 
and carried us down to Kingston, and miglity savage was 
Sir James ; — he said that it was unpardonable that so 
small a force should have attempted resistance, and he 
and the lieutenant getting high, and becoming aggra- 
vated by something as was said between them, Sir 
James claps him in a state-room under arrest, and 
keeps him there under a sentry, with a drawn baggo- 
net, for nigh on two months. After that he sends the 
lieutenant to Quebec, and then to England, where he 
remained till the close of the war ; but them of us men 
as didn't die of our wounds was kept down in Montreal, 

until " Here the old man broke off abruptly, and 

taking another long look at the horizon, said, " If I a'nt 
much mistaken, Master Tom, there's something a- 
brewing ahead there, as will make this here craft wake 
up, as if she was at the little end of a funnel, with a 
harricane pouring through the other — and if I knows 
the smell of a Potomac thundergust, we'll have it full 
blast here before we're many minutes older." 



LEE'S PARTISAN LEGION. 

Old Kennedy quietly proceeded to make the ne-. 
cessary preparations to encounter the tempest. His 
peacoat was got out of the locker, and tightly buttoned 
about him, and his tarpaulin well secured by its lan- 
yard to his button-hole. The mainsail and foresail 
were stowed and secured, and nothing but the jib, the 
bonnet of which was reefed down, was allowed to 
remain spread upon our dark and graceful schooner. 

The cloud in the horizon began to extend itself, in- 
creasing and gradually rising and covering the sky, 
and the old man's prediction was evidently about to 
be fulfilled. A dead calm lay upon the river, and a 
preternatural stillness clothed in a sort of stupor the 
whole face of nature around ns ; while low muttering 
rolls of thunder from the dark cloud, and the frequent, 
sudden, crinkling lightning, glittering across its sur- 
face, warned us that we were about to encounter one 
of those violent and terrible thunder-storms which not 
unfrequently occur in this part of the country. 

The distant muttering in the horizon rapidly became 
louder, and the perfect stillness of the forest was bro- 
ken. The melancholy sighs of the coming blast in- 
creased to wails, — the boughs of the trees rubbed 
against each other with a slow, see-saw motion, and, 



LEES PARTISAN LEGION. 79 

as the storm increased, grated with a harsh and con- 
tinued groaning. The lightning became quick and 
incessant, and bUndingly vivid, and the dark ^loom of 
the forest was rendered still darker by its rapid glare. 
The river itself soon was lashed into foam behind us, 
and in a few moments more, accompanied by huge 
clouds of dust, the tempest came roaring upon us 
The cultivated fields and cheerful plantations which 
were but now smiling in quietness and repose, on the 
other side of the river, were now instantly shut out by 
the deep gloom. As the gust struck the schooner, 
she checked for a moment as if in surprise, and then 
shot forward with the speed of an arrow from the bow, 
swept on in the furious tempest as if she had been a 
gossamer or feather, enveloped in dust and darkness, 
the rain and hail hissing as it drove onwards, and the 
terrific thunder, now like whole broadsides of artillery, 
now quick and incessant peals of musquetry, roaring 
with frightful violence around her, while the deep.black 
forest, lit up by the blue lightning, bellowed incessantly 
with the hollow echoes. As we swept forward with 
frantic swiftness, a quivering white flash struck the 
top of an immense oak, and ere the crashing, deafen- 
ing roar of the thunder followed, it was torn and splin- 
tered, shivered and burning, hurled on by the blast. 
As soon as the squall struck us, we ensconced 
ourselves below, in full confidence of our safety with 
Old Kennedy at the helm ; and a fine subject would 



so lee's PARTISAN LEGION. 

the old seaman have been for a painter, as he sat amid 
the fury of the storm, stern and erect, the tiller under 
the stump of his left arm, and the jib-sheets' with one 
turn around the cleet in his right hand — the usual 
surly expression of his countenance increased into 
grim defiance, as he steadily and unmovingly kept his 
eyes fixed into the gloom ahead. At one time we 
darted by a sloop at anchor, which had let go every 
thing by the run, her sails over her side in the water, 
on which, if the yacht had struck, she w^ould have been 
crumpled up like a broken egg-shell ; but thanks to our 
old Quartermaster's care, we dashed by in the gloom, 
his' eyes never even for a moment turning on her as we 
passed. 

The storm swept us on in its fury for some time, 
when it gradually abated in violence, and began to 
subside. The heavy clouds, flying higher and higher 
in detached masses in the heavens, by and bye lifted 
themselves in the western sky, and through the ragged 
intervals the setting sun poured his last rays over the 
dripping forest, bronzing the dark sides of our little 
schooner as he sunk and disappeared beneath the 
horizon. As the evening wore on, a star here and 
there discovered itself struggling amid the scud flying 
over it, and presently the moon shone out with her 
broad and silver light, and every vestige of the storm 
had disappeared. 



81 

As we glided gaily on, with, a fresh, fine breeze, to- 
"wards our cottage home past the deep forest, the 
silence was broken by a long, melancholy howl, which 
I supposed was that of a solitary wolf, but Lee said 
that it was more probably from some one of the large 
breed of dogs which are found on most of the planta- 
tions. Lee's mind was of a sad and pensive, although 
not at all of a gloomy cast ; and like most men of that 
character, he required strong excitement to arouse him ; 
but when aroused, of all delightful companions that I 
have ever met, he was the man. The excitement of 
the storm had been sufficient stimulus, and giving the 
reins to his wild spirits and excited feelings, he enter- 
tained us with an incessant stream of anecdote and 
adventure. The howl of the wolf had recalled to 
mind an incident in the life of his ancestor, Lieute- 
nant-Colonel Lee, and in connection, he related it with 
many other adventures of the celebrated Partisan Le- 
gion. I will not attempt to use his beautiful and spirit- 
stirring language, but will confine myself to a few dis- 
jointed anecdotes, of the many which he related of the 
dashing corps, as they happen to recur to my memory. 

The Legion, intended to act independently or con- 
jointly with the main army, as circumstances might 
require, was composed of three companies of infantry, 
and three troops of cavalry, amounting in all to three 
hundred and fifty men, commanded by Lieutenant- 
Colonel Henry Lee, who, every inch a soldier, had 
6 



82 lee's partisan legion. 

won for himself in the Southern campaigns, and par- 
ticularly in the masterly retreat of Green, before Com- 
wallis, the honourable distinction of being called '* the 
eye of the Southern army." He was Green's con- 
fidential adviser and constant friend : — a stern disci- 
plinarian, he was nevertheless beloved by his officers 
and men, and so careful was he of the interests of the 
latter, that while the rest of the army were suffering, 
the Legion by his exertions was always retained in the 
highest state of personah appearance and discipline. 
The horses were powerful and kept in high condition ; 
— indeed Lee has been accused of being more careful 
for their safety than for that of his men. The cavalry in 
the British army mounted on iiiferior horses, could not 
stand a moment before them ; and armed with their 
long heavy sabres, Lee's troopers were considered full 
match for double the force of the enemy. 

The Legion infantry were well equipped, and tho- 
roughly disciplined men, and acted in unison with the 
cavalry. They were comm indec. by Captain Michael 
Rudolph, a man of small stature, but of the most de- 
termined and daring courage, and of great physical 
strength. He always led in person the " forlorn hope," 
when the Legion's services were required in the storm 
of posts, and he was so completely the idol of his men, 
that it was only necessary that he should be detailed 
on duty of the most desperate character, that the in- 
fantry, to a man, were anxious to be engaged in it. 



LEES PARTISAN LEGION. 83 

The leading captain of the cavalry, James Armstrong, 
was almost precisely his counterpart in person, ia 
strength, in undaunted courage and heroic daring, be- 
loved by his men, ahead of whom he was always 
found in the charge. O'Neal, also of the cavalry, was 
a bold and gallant man, who fought his way up from 
the ranks ; for no carpet knight had consideration in 
the corps. In an early part of his career, he came 
near cutting off in the bud, Cornwallis' favourite caval- 
ry officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Tarleton ; for this offi- 
cer, whatever his merits or demerits, endeavoured to 
enter a window at which O'Neal was posted, when the 
latter, dropping his carabine, snapped it within an inch 
of his head, but the piece missing fire, Tarleton very 
coolly looked up at him with a smile, and said, " You 
have missed it for this time, my lad," and wheeling his 
horse, joined the rest of his troop, who were on the 
retreat. 

It were perhaps difficult to select the brave from a 
body of men who were all brave, but it is not invidious 
to say, that there was not a man of more fearless cour- 
age in the corps than Lieutenant Manning of the Le- 
gion infantry. At the battle of Eutaw, commanding his 
platoon to charge, he rushed on in his usual reckless 
manner, without stopping or looking behind him, until 
he was brought up by a large stone house, into which 
the Royal York Volunteers under Lieutenant-Colonel 
Cruger, were retiring. The British were on all sides, 



84 lee's partisan legion. 

and no American soldier within two hundred yards of 
him. Without a moment's hesitation, he threw him- 
self upon a British officer, and seizing him by the col- 
lar, wrested his sword from his grasp, exclaiming, in 
a harsh voice, " You are my prisoner, sir." Interpos- 
ing him between the enemy and himself, as a shield 
from the heavy fire pouring from the windows, he 
then very coolly and deliberately backed out of dan- 
ger : the prisoner, who was not deemed by his brother 
officers a prodigy of valour, pompously enumerating his 
rank and titles, which Manning occasionally interrupt- 
ed with, *' You are right — you are right — you're just 
the man, sir, — you shall preserve me from danger, and 
rest assured I'll take good care of ^ow." 

Manning had retreated some distance from the house, 
when he saw his friend Captain Joyett, of the Virginia 
line, engaged in single combat with a British officer. 
The American was armed with his sword, while the 
Briton was defending himself with a bayonet. As the 
American approached, the Englishman made a thrust 
with the bayonet, which Joyett successfully parried with 
his sword, when both of them dropping the arms which 
they could not wield in so close an encounter, simultane- 
ously clinched, and being men of great and nearly 
equal bodily strength, they were soon engaged in a des- 
perate and deadly struggle. While thus engaged, an 
English grenadier seeing the danger of his officer, 
ran up and with his bayonet made a lounge, which 



lee's partisan legion. 85 

luckily missing Joyett's body, passed only through 
the skirts of his coat, but the bayonet becoming 
entangled in the folds, upon its withdrawal dragged 
both of the combatants together to the ground. The 
soldier having disengaged it, was about deliberately to 
transfix Joyett by a second thrust, when Manning, 
seeing the danger of his friend, without being suffi- 
ciently near in the crisis to assist him, called out as he 
hurried up in an authoritative tone, " Ybu would not 
murder the gentleman, you brute !" — The grenadier 
supposing himself addressed by one of his own officers, 
suspended the contemplated blow and turned towards 
the speaker, but before he could recover from his sur- 
prise, Manning cut him across the eyes with his 
sword, while Joyett disengaging himself from his op- 
ponent, snatched up the musket, and with one blow laid 
him dead with the butt ; — the valiant prisoner whom 
Manning had dragged along, and who invariably assert- 
ed that he had been captured by " Joyett, a huge Vir- 
ginian," — instead of Manning, who was a small man — 
standing a horror-struck spectator of the tragedy. 
An equally brave man was Sergeant Ord, of Manning's 
company ; — in the surprise of the British at George- 
town, when a company of the Legion infantry had 
captured a house with its enclosures, the enemy made 
an attempt to regain it ; the commanding officer calling 
out to his men, "Rush on, my brave fellows — they are 
only militia, and have no bayonets;" — Ord placing 



86 lee's partisan legion. 

himself in front of the gate as they attempted to enter, 
laid six of them in succession, dead at his feet, ac- 
companying each thrust with — " Oh ! no bayonets 
here — none to be sure !" — following up his strokes 
with such rapidity that the party were obliged to give 
up the attempt and retire. 

But perhaps there could have been no two charac- 
ters in the corps more the perfect antipodes of each 
other, than the two surgeons of the cavalry, Irvine 
and Skinner, for while Irvine was entirely regardless 
of his person, and frequently found engaged sword in 
hand, in the thickest of the fight, where his duty by 
no means called him. Skinner was as invariably 
found in the rear, cherishing his loved person from the 
threatened danger. Indeed he was a complete coun- 
terpart of old Falstaff ; — the same fat and rotund per- 
son — the same lover of good cheer and good wine — 
and entertaining the same aversion to exposing his dear 
body to the danger of missiles or cuts ; — not only 
was he a source of fun in himself, " but he was the 
cause of it in others." He asserted that his business 
was in the rear — to cure men, not to kill them ; and 
when Irvine was wounded at the charge of Quinby's 
bridge, he refused to touch him, until he had dressed 
the hurts of the meanest of the soldiers, saying that 
Matthew Irvine was served perfectly right, and had no 
business to be engaged out of his vocation. At the 
night alarm at Ninety-six, Colonel Lee, hastening for- 



LEE S PARTISAN LEGION. 87 

ward to ascertain the cause, met the Doctor in full re- 
treat, and stopping him, addressed him, with — " Where 
so fast, Doctor — not frightened I hope," — " No, Colo- 
nel," replied Skinner — " not frightened — but I confess, 
most infernally alarmed." His eccentricities extend- 
ed not alone to his acts, but to every thing about him. 
Among other peculiarities, he wore his beard long, and 
unshorn, and upon boing asked by a brother officer 
why he did so, he replied, that "that was a secret be- 
tween Heaven and himself, which no human imperti- 
nence should ever penetrate." Like FalstafF, and with 
similar success, he considered himself the admired 
of the fair sex, — *' Ay !" said he, to Captain Cams, of 
the infantry, " Ay, Cams, I have an eye .'" Yet Skinner 
was by no means a man to be trifled with, for he was 
not devoid of a certain sort of courage, as he had 
proved in half a dozen duels, in one of which he had 
killed his man. When asked how it was, that he was 
so careful of his person in action, when he had shown 
so plainly that he was not deficient in courage, — he 
replied, " That he considered it very arrogant in a 
surgeon, whose business it was to cure, to be aping 
the demeanour and duty of a commissioned offi- 
cer, and that he was no more indisposed to die than 
other gentlemen, but that he had an utter aversion to the 
noise and tumult of battle, — that it stunned and stupi- 
fied him." On one occasion, when the Legion was 
passing through a narrow defile, the centre was alarmed 



88 lee's partisan legion. 

by the drums of the infantry beatmg to arms in front, — 
Skinner, with the full sense of what was due to him- 
self, whirled about, and giving his horse a short turn by 
the bridle, brought him down on his back in the mid- 
dle of the detile, completely blocking it up, and pre- 
venting either egress or ingress — relief or retreat. The 
infantry and cavalry which had passed the gorge, imme- 
diately deployed on the hill in front,. while the rem?irder 
of the Legion, galloping up, were completely severed by 
this singular and unexpected obstruction, until Captain 
Egglestone dismounting some of his strongest troopers, 
succeeded in dragging the horse out of the defile by 
main force. It turned out that the alarm was false, 
otherwise the doctor's terror might have caused the 
destruction of one-half of the corps. 

But to recur to the incident brought to mind by the 
howling of the wolf. When the Legion was on its 
march to form a junction with Marion, on the little Pe- 
dee, it one night encamped in a large field on the 
southern side of a stream, with the main road in front. 
The night passed on very quietly, until about two 
or three in the morning, when the ofiicer of the day 
reported that a strange noise had been heard by the 
picquet in front, on the great road, resembling the noise 
of men moving through the adjoining swamp. While 
he was yet speaking, the sentinel in that quarter fired 
his piece, which was immediately followed by the bu- 
gle calling in the horse patroles, the invariable custom 



lee's partisan legion. 



89 



upon the approach of an enemy. The drums instantly 
beat to arms, and the troops arranged for defence. 
The sentries on being questioned, all concurred in the 
same account, " and one patrol of horse asserted that 
they had heard horsemen concealing with the greatest 
care their advance." Lee was in great perplexity, for 
he knew that he was not within strikhig distance of 
any large body of the enemy, and that Marion was at 
least two days distance in advance ; but soon a sentinel 
in another direction fired, and the same report was 
brought in from him ; and it was apparent, however 
unaccountable, that the enemy were present. A rapid 
change in the formation of the troops was made to 
meet'' the attack in this quarter, but it was hardly ac- 
complished before the fire of a third sentinel in a 
diflerent direction, communicated the intelligence of 
danger from another quarter. Feelings of intense 
anxiety were now aroused, and preparations were 
made for a general assault, as soon as light should 
allow it to be made. The picquets and sentinels 
held their stations, the horse patrols were called 
in, and the corps changed its position in silence, and 
with precision upon every new communication, with the 
combined object of keeping the fires between them and 
the enemy, and the horse in the rear of the infantry. 
While thus engaged, another and rapid discharge 
by the sentinels, on the line of the great road, plainly 
indicated that the enemy were in force, and that with 
full understanding of their object, they had surrounded 



90 



PARTISAN LEGION. 



them. It was also evident that there must be a large 
body of the enemy, from their covering so large a seg- 
ment of the circle around them. It was equally appa- 
rent that they could expect no aid from any quarter, 
and relying upon themselves, the corps awaited in ex- 
treme anxiety, the scene which the day was to usher 
upon them. 

Lee passed along the line of infantry and cavalry, 
in a low tone urging upon them the necessity of pro- 
found silence, reminding them that in the approaching 
contest they must sustain their high reputation, and 
expressing his confidence, that Avith their accustomed 
bravery, they would be able to cut their way through 
all opposing obstacles, and reach the Pedee. His 
address was answered by whispers of applause, and 
having formed the cavalry and infantry into two col- 
umns, he awaited anxiously the break of day, to give 
the signal for action. It soon appeared, and the col- 
umns advanced on the great road ; infantry in front, 
baggage in the centre, and cavalry in the rear. As 
soon as the head of the column reached the road, the 
van officer proceeding a few hundred yards received 
the same account that had been given from the sen- 
tinel that had fired last. 

The enigma remained unexplained, and no enemy 
being in view, there could be but little doubt that the 
attack was to be from ambushment, and the column 
moved slowly on, expecting every moment to receive 
their fire. But the van officer's attention having been 



lEE's PARTISAN LEGION. 91 

accidentally attracted, he examined, and found along 
the road, the tracks of a large pack of wolves The 
mystery was now solved; it was evident that the 
supposed enemy was no other than the pack of wild 
beasts, which, turned from the.r route by the fire of 
the sentinels, had passed still from point to point in 
a wide circuit, bent upon the attainment of the.r object. 
A quantity of provisions had been stored some tune 
previously on iheir line of march, but having become 
spoiled, it was abandoned in the vicinity of the 
ni.ht's encampment, and the wolves had been dis- 
turbed by the videts, in the nightly progress to their 
resale The agitation instantly subsided, and wit and 
merriment flashed on all sides, "every one appearing 
anxious to shift the derision from himself upon his 
neighbour, the commandant himself coming in for his 
share ; and as it was the interest of the many to fix 
the stigma on the few, the corps unanimously charged 
the officer of the day, the guards, the patrols and 
piquets, with gross stupidity, hard bordering upon cow- 
ardice :" nevertheless, they were none the less relieved 
by the happy termination of an adventure attended by 
«o many circumstances naturally alarming, and it long 
passed as an excellent joke in the Legion, under the 
title of the " Wolf reconnoitre." 

The music sounded merrily, and the column march- 
ed on, elate with the fun and novelty of the adventure, 
and of the buglers none blew a more cheery strain than 



92 lee's partis an legion. 

little Jack Ellis the bugler of Armstrong's troop. He 
was a fine boy, small and intelligent, as well as young 
and handsome, and a general favourite in the Legion. 
Poor little fellow ! he met his death under circumstan- 
ces peculiarly tragic and cruel, not long after. When 
the Southern army, under Green, was slowly making 
its masterly retreat before Cornwallis, the Legion form- 
ed part of the rear-guard, and was consequently almost 
continually in sight of the van of the enemy, com- 
manded by Brigadier-General O'Hara. The duty de- 
volving upon it, severe in the day, was extremely so in 
the night, for numerous patrols and piquets were con- 
stantly required to be on the alert, to prevent the ene- 
my from taking advantage of the darkness to get near 
the main army by circuitous routes, so that one half 
of the troops of the rear guard were alternately put on 
duty day and night, and the men were not able to get 
more than six hours sleep out of the forty-eight. But 
the men were in fine spirits, notwithstanding the great 
fatigue to which they were subjected. They usually, 
at the break of day, hurried on, to gain as great a dis- 
tance in advance as possible, that they might secure 
their breakfast, the only meal during the rapid and 
hazardous retreat. One drizzly and cold morning, 
the officers and dragoons, in pursuance of this custom, 
had hurried on to the front, and just got their corn cakes 
and meat on the coals, when a countryman, mounted on 
a small and meagre pony, came galloping up, and has- 



93 

tily asking for the commanding officer, he informed him 
that the British cokmin, leaving the main line of march, 
were moving obliquely in a different direction, and 
that, discovering the manoeuvre from a field where he 
was burning brush, he had run home, caught the first 
horse he could lay his hands upon, and hurried along 
with the information. Unwilling to believe the report 
of the countryman, although he could not well doubt 
it, and reluctant to disturb so materially the comfort of 
the men, as to deprive them of the breakfast for which 
they were waiting with keen appetites, Lee ordered 
Captain Armstrong to take one section of horse, ac- 
companied by the countryman, to return on the route, 
and having reconnoitred, to make his report. 

Circumstances, however, strengthening him in the be- 
lief that the information of the countryman \vas correct, 
he took a squadron of cavalry, and followed on to the 
support of Armstrong, whom he overtook at no great dis- 
tance ahead. Perceiving no sign of the enemy, he again 
concluded that the countryman was mistaken. He 
therefore directed Armstrong to take the guide and three 
dragoons, and to advance still further on the road, while 
he returned with the squadron to finish their breakfast. 
The countryman mounted on his sorry nag, protested 
against being thus left to take care of himself, asserting 
that though the dragoons on their spirited and powerful 
horses were sure of safety, if pursued — he, on his jaded 



94 lee's partisan legion. 

hack, was equally sure of being taken. Lee acknow- 
ledged the danger of the friendly guide, dismounted 
the little bugler, and giving the countryman his horse, 
he placed Ellis upon the hack, sending him on in 
front to report to the commanding officer. After having 
returned a short distance, the squadron entered the 
woods, on the road side, and the dragoons leisurely 
proceeded to finish their breakfast — but they had 
hardly got it out of their haversacks, when a firing of 
musketry was heard, and almost immediately after the 
clatter of horses' hoofs coming on at full gallop. The 
next moment, Armstrong, with his dragoons and the 
countryman came in sight, pursued by a troop of Tarle- 
ton's dragoons, at the top of their speed. 

Lee saw Armstrong with his small party well in 
front and hard in hand, and felt no anxiety about them, 
as he knew that their horses were so superior to those 
of the enemy that they were perfectly safe, but the 
danger of the bugler, who could be but little ahead, 
immediately caused him serious uneasiness. Wishing 
however, to let the British squadron get as far from 
support as possible, he continued in the woods for a few 
moments, intending to interpose in time to save the boy. 
Having let them get a sufficient distance, and assuring 
himself that there was nothing coming up to their 
support, he put the squadron in motion and appeared 
on the road, but only in time to see the enraged dra- 
goons overtake and sabre the poor little suppliant, as 



95 

lie in vain implored for quarter. Infuriated at the 
sight, he gave orders to charge, and the English officer 
had barely time to form, when Lee's squadron was 
upon them like a whirlwind — killing, prostrating, and 
unhorsing almost the whole of the force in an instant, 
while the captain, and the few left unhurt endeavour- 
ed to escape. Ordejiug Lieutenant Lewis to follow on 
in pursuit, with strict orders to give no quarter, an order 
dictated by the sanguinary act that they had just 
v/itnessed, he placed the dying boy in the arms of two 
of the dragoons, directing them to proceed onwards to 
the camp, and immediately after pushed on to the sup- 
port of Lewis, whom he soon met returning with the 
English captain and several of his dragoons, prisoners 
— the officer unhurt, but the men severely cut iri the 
face, neck, and shoulders. Reprimanding Lewis on 
the spot for disobedience of orders, he peremptorily 
charged the British officer with the atrocity that they 
had just witnessed, and ordered him to prepare for 
instant death. The officer urged that he had in vain 
endeavoured to save the boy, that his dragoons were 
intoxicated, and would not obey his orders, and he beg- 
ged that he might not be sacrificed, stating that in the 
slaughter of Lt. Col. Buford's command, he had used 
his greatest exertions, and succeeded in saving the 
lives of many of the Americans. This, in some mea- 
sure mollified Lee, but just then overtaking the speech- 
less and dying boy, expiring in the arms of the soldiers, 



96 lee's partisan legion. 

his bright and handsome face, changed in the ghastly 
agony of death, he returned with unrelenting sternness 
to his first decision and informed the Englishman that 
he should execute him in the next vale through which 
they were to pass, and furnishing him with a pencil 
and paper, desired him to make such note as he wished 
to his friends, which he pledged him his word should 
be sent to the British General. The ill-fated soldier 
proceeded to write, when the British van approaching 
in sight, the prisoner was sent on to Col. Williams in 
front, who, ignorant of the murder, and of Lee's deter- 
mination to make an example of him, in his turn, for- 
warded him on to head quarters — thus luckily saving 
his life. Eighteen of the British dragoons fell in the 
charge, and were buried by Cornwallis as he came up, 
but the American's had time to do no more than lay 
the body of the poor little bugler in the woods on the 
side of the road, trusting to the charity of the country 
people to inter it, when they were obliged to resume 
their retreat. It should be borne in mind that Lee's 
humane disposition could only be excited to such sum- 
mary vengeance by the cruel and unwarrantable mur- 
der that they had just witnessed, and by the frequent 
acts of atrocity which had been repeatedly enacted by 
this same corps. 

Perhaps the fated destiny which frequently appears 
to await the soldier, hanging over him like a shield 
while he passes through the most desperate danger, 



LEES PARTISAN LEGION. 97 

until the appointed hour arrives, was never more appa- 
rent than in the case of Lt. Col. Webster, of the 
British army in this same retreat. When the rear of 
the American army, composed as has been observed 
principally by the Legion, had passed the Reedy 
Fork, the British van under the command of Webster, 
endeavoured to ford the river and bring them into action, 
a point which Cornwallis was anxious to attain, but 
which was entirely foreign to the plan of Greene, 
whose object was to wear out his pursuers. Under 
the cover of a dense fog, the British had attained a 
short distance of the Legion before they were discover- 
ed. They made their appearance on the opposite bank 
of the river, and after halting a few moments, descend- 
ed the hill and approached the water, but receiving a 
heavy fire of musketry and rifles, they fell back and 
quickly reascending, were again rallied on the margin 
of the bank. Col. Webster rode up, calling upon the 
soldiers in a loud voice to follow, and rushing down the 
hill, at their head, amid a galling fire poured from the 
Legion troops, he plunged into the water. In the 
woods occupied by the riflemen, was an old log school- 
house, a little to the right of the ford. The mud 
stuffed between the logs had mostly fallen out, and the 
apertures admitted the use of rifles with ease. In this 
house Lee had posted five and twenty select marksmen 
from the mountain militia, with orders to forego engag- 
ing in the general action, and directions to hold them- 
7 



98 

selves in reserve for any particular object which might 
present. " The attention of this party being attracted 
by Webster, as he plunged into the water, they singled 
him out as their mark. The stream being deep, and 
the bottom rugged, he advanced slowly, the soldiers, 
some of them, holding on by his stirrup-leathers, — and 
one by one they discharged their rifles at him, each 
man sure of knocking him over, and, having re-loaded, 
eight or nine of them, emptied their guns at him a 
second time, yet strange to relate, neither horse nor 
rider received a single ball. The twenty-five marks- 
men were celebrated for their superior skill, and it was 
a common amusement for them to place an apple on 
•the end of a ramrod and hold it out at arm's length, as 
a mark for their comrades to fire at, when many balls 
would pass through the apple, yet the British officer, 
mounted on a stout horse, slowly moving through a deep 
water course, was singled out and fired at thirty-two or 
three times successively, and yet remained untouched, 
and succeeded in effecting a lodgment on the bank, 
where he formed his troops under a heavy fire." This 
gallant officer, and polished gentleman, the favourite of 
Cornw^allis, subsequently fell at the battle of Guilford 
Court-House, not more regretted by his brother soldiers, 
than admired by those of the American army. 

There is nothing more true, than that in war as in 
love, much depends upon accident, and an alarm is fre- 
quently conveyed and a victory won, by circumstances 



lee's partisan legion 



99 



entirely the act of chance. As a case in point. In the 
retreat of the British after the battle of Monks' Corner, 
Lt. Col. Stuart ordered all the arms belonging to the 
dead and wounded to be collected, and when the re- 
treating enemy had marched on, they were set fire to 
by the rear guard. As many of the muskets were 
loaded, an irregular discharge followed, resembling the 
desultory fire which usually precedes a battle. The 
retreating army immediately supposed, that Greene was 
up and had commenced an attack on their rear— and 
the dismay and confusion was so great, that the wa- 
goners cut the traces of their horses and galloped off, 
leaving the wagons on the route. The followers of 
the army fled in like manner, and the terror was rapidly 
increasing, when the cessation of the firing quelled the 

alarm. 

But the most exciting incident that our fellow voy- 
ager related, and one which would well merit the at- 
tention of the painter, was the spirited affair at Qum- 
by's Bridge. When the British army in their turn 
were retr^eating, Sumpter, Marion and Lee frequently 
were able to act in concert. The 19th British Regi- 
ment, Lt. Col. Coates, having become isolated at 
Monks' Corner, Marion and Lee determined to fall 
upon it, and cut it off by surprise before it could ob- 
tain relief. The British officer having taken the pre- 
caution to secure the bridge across the Cooper river 
by a strong detachment, it became necessary for them 



100 lee's PARTISAN LEGION. 

to make a long circuit, through the deep sands in the 
hottest part of the summer, before they could form a 
junction with Sumpter, whose aid was required in the 
intended attack. The junction was not effected until 
evening, and the attack was necessarily deferred until 
the following morning ; but about midnight the whole 
sky becoming illuminated by a great conflagration, it 
was evident that the enemy had taken the alarm. They 
had set fire to the church to destroy the stores, and had 
decamped in silence. By the neglect of the militia, 
who had deserted a bridge at which they were 
stationed, the enemy had been able to draw off, and 
obtain a considerable distance in advance, before their 
retreat was discovered. Lee immediately followed 
on with the cavalry in pursuit of the main body, but 
was unable to come up with it, until he had arrived 
in the neighbourhood of Quinby's Bridge, about eigh- 
teen miles from Monks' Corner. Upon his first ap- 
proach, he discovered the baggage of the regiment 
under a rear guard of about one hundred men, advan- 
cing along a narrow road, the margin of which was 
bordered by a deep swamp on both sides. As soon as 
the cavalry came in view, the British officer formed 
his men across the road, which they had hardly effect- 
ed, when the charge was sounded, and the Legion ca- 
valry rushed upon them with drawn swords at full 
gallop. The voice of the British officer was distinctly 
heard : " Front rank,— bayonets — second rank, — fire ! " 



101 

— and as no discharge immediately followed, the cavalry- 
officers felt extreme solicitude, lest its reservation was 
meant to make it the more fatal on their near approach, 
for on the narrow road, and in the close column in 
which they were rushing on, a well-directed fire would 
have emptied half of their saddles — but happily the 
soldiers, alarmed by the formidable appearance of the 
cavalry, threw down their arms and supplicated for 
quarter, which the cavalry were most happy to grant 
them. The prisoners being secured, the main body of 
the cavalry pushed on under Armstrong for the bridge, 
which was still about three miles in front, in the hope 
of cutting off the enemy before they should succeed in 
reaching it. As Armstrong came in sight, he found that 
Coates had passed the bridge, and that he was indolently 
reposing on the opposite side of the river, awaiting his 
rear guard and baggage. He had, by way of precau- 
tion, taken up the planks from the bridge, letting them 
lie loosely on the sleepers, intending as soon as the 
rear should have crossed, to destroy it. Seeing the 
enemy with the bridge thus interposed, which he knew 
was contrary to the commandant's anticipations, Arm- 
strong drew up, and sent back word to Lee, who was 
still with the prisoners, requesting orders, never com- 
municating .the fact that the bridge was interposed. 
Lee's adjutant soon came galloping back with the la- 
conic answer : — " The order of the day, sir, is to fall 
upon the enemy, without regard to consequences.^" 



102 lee's partisan legion*. 

The gallant Armstrong for a moment leaned forward 
in his saddle, towards the adjutant, as if thunder-struck, 
with this reflection on his courage, — in the next his 
sword glanced like a streak of light around his head, 
his noble horse leapt with a snort clear of the ground, 
as the spur-rowels were buried to the gaffs in his sides, 
and in another shouting in a voice of thunder — " Legion 
cavalry, charge ! " at the head of his section, he cleared 
the bridge, the horses throwing off the loose planks in 
every direction, the next instant driving the soldiers 
headlong from the howitzer which they had mounted 
at the other end to defend it, he was cutting and slash- 
ing in the very centre of the British regiment, which, 
taken completely by surprise, threw down their arms, 
retreating in ever\' direction. The horses of Arm- 
strong's section had thrown off the planks as they 
cleared the bridge, leaving a yawning chasm, beneath 
which the deep black stream was rushing turbidly on- 
wards ; but Lt. Carrington, at the head of his section, 
took the leap and closed with Armstrong, engaged in a 
desperate personal encounter with Lt. Col. Coates, 
who had had barely time to throw himself with a'few 
of his officers behind some baggage-wagons, where 
they were parr\nng the sabre cuts made by the dra- 
goons at their heads. Most of the soldiers, alarmed at 
the sudden attack, had abandoned their officers, and 
were running across the fields, to shelter themselves 
in a neighbouring farm-house. Lee, by this time, had 



lee's partisan legiox. 103 

liimself got up to the bridge, where O'Xeal, with 
the third section had halted, the chasm having been so 
much enlarged by Carrington's horses throwing off 
additional planks, that his horses would not take the 
leap, and seeing the howitzer abandoned, and the whole 
regiment dispersed, except the few officers who 
were defending themselves with their swords, while 
they called upon the flying soldiers for assistance, he 
proceeded to recover and replace the planks. The 
river was deep in mud, and still deeper in water, so 
that the dragoons could neither get a footing to re-place 
the planks, nor a firm spot from which they might 
swim their horses to the aid of their comrades. 
Seeing this posture of affairs, some of the bravest of 
the British soldiers began to hurry back to the assist- 
ance of their officers, and Armstrong and Carrington, 
being unable to sustain with only one troop of dragoons, 
so unequal a combat, they abandoned the contest, forcing 
their way down the great road, into the woods on the 
margin of the stream, in the effort to rejoin the corps. 
Relieved from the immediate danger, Coates hastened 
back to the bridge, and opened a tire from the deserted 
howitzer upon Lee and the soldiers, who were fruit- 
lessly striving to repair the bridge, and being armed 
only with their sabres, which the chasm made per- 
fectly useless, as they could not reach the enemy 
across it, they were also forced to give up the attempt, 
and retire without the ranse of the fire from the omn- 



104 lee's partisan legion. 

Marion shortly after coming up, in conjunction with 
Lee marched some distance down the banks, where 
they were enabled to ford the stream, and effect a pas- 
sage. In the edge of the evening, they reached the 
farm-house, but found that Coates had fortified himself 
within it, with his howitzer, and was thus impregnable 
to cavalry. " While halting in front, Armstrong and 
Carrington came up with their shattered sections. Nei- 
ther of the officers were hurt, but many of the bravest 
dragoons were killed, and still more wounded. Some 
of their finest fellows — men, who had passed through 
the whole war esteemed and admired, had fallen in 
this honourable but unsuccessful attempt." Being 
without artillery, and within striking distance of 
Charleston, they were obliged, fatigued as they were, to 
commence their retreat. Placing the wounded in the 
easiest posture for conveyance, and laying the dead oa 
the pommels of their saddles, the Legion counter- 
marched fifteen miles ; at its close, burying in sadness 
and grief in one common sepulchre the bodies of those 
that had fallen. 

These anecdotes of the Legion are but a few of the 
many stirring and spirited narrations with which Lee 
whiled away the time, as we glided along on our re- 
turn up the river. His own observations and adven- 
tures in travelUng over the world were not wanting for 
our amusement, for, with a mind well prepared for its 
enjoyment, he had passed the years that had inter- 



105 

vened, since I last saw him, in travelling leisurely over 
Europe and the East. With the true philosophy of 
life, calling all men brothers, and restrained by no nar- 
row prejudices of country or habit, he had entered 
eagerly into the manners and participated in the amuse- 
ments of those around him. First after the hounds in 
England, he shouted " tally ho ! " with all the enthu- 
siasm of the veriest sportsman in the hunt ; while his 
voice was heard equally loud and jovial in the wild 
and half frantic chorus of the drinking and smoking 
students of Germany. He scrupled not to wear his 
beard long, and partake of the hard black loaf in the 
cabin of the Russian boor, while, with equal equani- 
mity he wore his turban, and smoked his chiboque 
cross-legged in the caifarets of Turkey. He climbed 
the huge pyramids, and their dark and silent chambers 
echoed the sounds of his voice, as he called on Che- 
ops, Isis and Orus ; and, kneeling in the gorgeous 
mosque of Omar, he worshipped the true God, while 
the muzzeim from its minarets was proclaiming, that 
Mahomet was his prophet. He had luxuriated amid 
the never-dying works of the great masters at Florence, 
and, lulled by the harmonious chaunt of the gondolier, 
had swept over the moonlit lagoons of Venice. He 
had whirled in all the gaiety of living Paris, and 
measured with careful steps the silent streets of dead 
Herculaneum and Pompeii. He had stood amid the 
awful stillness on the glittering ice-covered summits of 



106 

Mont Blanc, and looked fearlessly down into the great 
roaring caverns of fire boiling in the crater of Vesu- 
vius — but now there was a sadness about his heart 
"which rarely lighted up, and, as I have observed, it was 
only under momentary excitement that he blazed into 
brilliant entertainment. 

As the fresh breeze wafted us swiftly onwards, Ve- 
nus, mid the stars trembling in unnumbered myriads, 
rivalled with her silvery rays the great round-orbed 
moon, sailing joyously in her career high in the hea- 
vens above us, — and soon the bright beacon on the 
plantation shore, lighted for our guidance, shone stea- 
dily over the dark water, and ere long we were all 
quietly seated at the supper-table, with our beautiful 
hostess at its head, — again in Tom's cottage on the 
banks of the Potomac. 



Note. — The incidents related in the above article are derived 
from " Lee's Southern Campaigns " and '* CoL Gardner's Mili- 
tary Anecdotes," where, if he has not already perused them, the 
reader will find much to interest and amuse him. 



HUDSON RIVER. 

Here we are met again, all booted and spurred, and 
ready for another journey. Come, let us make the 
most of our time on this mundane sphere, for verily 
we are but two of the automata of the great moving 
panorama which is so rapidly hastening o'er its sur- 
face — two of the unnumbered millions who, lifted 
from our cradles, are hurrying with like equal haste 
towards the great dark curtain of the future, where, 
drawing its gloomy folds aside, we shall pass behind 
and disappear for ever. Therefore let us hasten ; for 
though some of us complacently imagine that we are 
bound on our own special road and chosen journey, 
yet, surely we are but travelling the path which has 
been marked out for us by an all-seeing Providence ; 
and though, like soldiers, we may be marching, as 
we suppose, to good billets and snug quarters, yet 
perhaps, before the day's route be closed, we shall be 
plunged into the centre of the battle-field, with sad cur- 
tailment of our history. Tempus fugit ! Therefore let 
us hasten, for, in a few short years, some modern Ham- 
let o'er our tomb-stones thus shall moralize : "Here 
be two fellows tucked up right cosily in their last 



108 HUDSON RIVER 



quarters, ' at their heads a grass-green turf, and at their 
heels a stone.' Humph ! for all their stillness, I war- 
rant me, they've strutted their mimic stage, and flaunted 
with the best ; they've had their ups and downs, their 
whims and fancies, their schemes and projects, their 
loves and hates,— have been elated with vast imagin- 
ings, and depressed to the very ocean's depths ; and now 
their little day and generation passed, they're settled 
to their rest. The school-boy astride on one's me- 
mento, with muddy heels kicks out his epitaph, while 
the other's name is barely visible among the thistle's 
aspiring tops,— yet both alike have rendered, with the 
whole human family, the same brief epitome of history. 
*They laughed— they groaned— they wept— and here 
they are,' for such are but the features of bright, con- 
fiding youth, stern manhood's trials, and imbecile old 
age." And this same sage Hamlet's right ; therefore, 
without more ado, let us get us on our travels. 

So, here we are in the Jerseys. Now westward 
shall lie our course. Here come the cars. Quick 
—jump in— here is a good seat, close by the old 
gentleman in the India-rubber cape. Ding, ding- 
ding, ding. There goes the bell. Shwist,' shwist. 
We are off. Clank— jirk— click— click— clickety— 
click— click. Here we go. We fly over the bridges, 
and through the tunnels ; the rail fences spin" by 
us in ribands; the mile-stones play leap-frog; the 
abutments dash by us. Screech ! the cattle jump 



HUDSONRIVER. 109 

like mad out of our way. Already at Jersey City ? 
"We paddle across. Ay, here we are, just in time, on 
board the " Swallow." What a pandemonium of racket, 
and noise, and confusion ! Steam yelling, bells ringing, 
boys and negroes bawling, porters and hackmen hurry- 
ing. — " Get out of my way, you dirty little baboon, 
with your papers." — " Thank you, madam, no oran- 
ges."— "All aboard."— Tinkle, tinkle. — The walk- 
ing-beam rises, the heavy wheels splash. — We shoot 
out into the stream. — We make a graceful curve, and, 
simultaneously with five other steamers, stretch like 
race-horses up the majestic Hudson. 

How beautifully the Narrows and the Ocean open to 
our view, and the noble bay, studded with its islands, 
and fortresses, and men-of-war, " tall, high admirals," 
with frowning batteries and chequered sides. In what 
graceful amity float the nations' emblems — the Tri- 
colour, the Red Cross, the Black Eagle, the Stars 
and Stripes. But we take the lead. Fire up — fire up, 
engineer, — her namesake cuts the air not more swiftly 
than our fleet boat her element. Still as a mirror lies 
the tranquil water. The dark pallisades above us, 
with fringed and picturesque outline, are reflected on 
its polished surface ; and the lordly sloops, see how 
lazily they roll and pitch on the long undulating swell 
made by our progress, their scarlet pennons quivering 
on its surface as it regains its smoothness. 

How rich and verdant extend thy shores, delightful 



110 HUDSON RIVER. 

river ! Oh ! kindly spirit — Crayon, Diedrick, Irving, 
whate'er we call thee, — with what delightful Indian 
summer of rustic story, of dreamy legend, hast thou 
invested them ? Lo ! as we slide along, what moving 
panorama presents itself? Phlegmatic Mynheers, in 
sleepy Elysium, evolve huge smoke -wreaths of the 
fragrant weed as they watch thy placid stream. Bloom- 
ing Katrinas, budding like roses out of their bod- 
dices, coquette with adoring Ichabods, — sturdy, broad- 
breeched beaux, sound " boot and saddle." Roaring 
Broms dash along on old Gun-powders. Headless 
horsemen thunder onwards through Haunted hollows 
— ^heads on saddle-bow. Dancing, laughing negroes 
— irate, rubicund trumpeters — huge Dutch merry-mak- 
ings — groaning feasts, and loafing, hen-pecked Rips, 
pass in review before us. And now, as we open the 
Tappan Zee, see ! see Old Hendrick, — see the old 
fellow in his scarlet cloak, his gallant hanger, cocked- 
hat, and many-buttoned breeches — see how the huge 
clouds of smoke, encircling his nose, float upwards, as, 
seated on his lofty poop, he sluggishly lays his course. 
See the old Dutchman — no — stop ! stop ! — 'tis but a 
creature of thy fantasy, floating in the setting sun- 
light. Oh ! historian of Columbus, with thy fellow, 
spirit, him of the " North Star," and the '* Evening 
Wind," gently, yet sorrowfully you float above the 
miasma clouds of gain, that in their poisonous wreaths 
envelope your countrymen. In the evening twilight 



HUDSON RIVER 



HI 



thy beacon, Stony Point, throws far its streaming rays 
o'er the darkening scenery, different, I ween, when 
mid midnight mist and stillness, mid cannon-blaze and 
roar, " Mad Anthony's" attacking columns simultane- 
ously struck the flag-staff in thy centre. The sparks 
stream rocket-like from our chimneys, as we enter 
your dark embrace, ye Highlands ! Hark ! the roll of 
the drum, as we round the bend — thy beautiful plateau, 
West Point, with its gallant spirits, is above us. Suc- 
cess to thee, school of the brave ! Engineers for her 
hours of peace, soldiers in war to lead her armies, dost 
thou furnish to thy country — brave, enduring men. 
Wben fell thy sons other than in the battle's front ? 
when in the fiercest danger were they found recreant ? 
Aye, well may Echo answer " When ? " 

The thunder of thy bowling balls, Old Hudson, we 
hear as we pass the gorges of the Catskill. Hyde 
Park, thou glancest by us — the villas of the Rensse- 
laers and Livingstons flit 'mid their green trees, — thy 
cottages, oh Kinderhook — the Overslaugh — rush by 
us, and now we are at Albany. Albany, Rochester, 
Utica, by smoaking steam-car, we are delivered from 
you. Auburn, we breathe among thy shady walks — 
and now, for a moment, Buffalo, we rest with thee. 
All hail to thee, thou city of the Bison Bull ! Great 
caravansera and resting-place of coming nations ! By- 
zantium of the future — hail ! As on a quay shall meet 
hereafter, through the Lawrence and the Oregon, the 



112 HUDSON RIVER. 

hardy seamen of the Atlantic and Pacific, the Otahei- 
tean and the fair-haired Swede ; while the bronzed 
trapper, the savage Blackfoot, the greasy Esquimaux, 
and half-civilized voyageur, shall mingle with aston- 
ishment and admiration on thy busy marts. Hail ! 
hail ! to thee, thou city of the desert lord, all hail ! 



NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE. 

(August 14th, 1814.) 

Hostler ! bring up the horses, we will cross to the 
Canadian shore, and ride leisurely o'er its battle- 
grounds. Tighten the girths, John. Take up an- 
other hole. So — never mind the stirrup. Jump — I'm 
in my saddle. Are you ready ? — Allons. Well 
broken is that grey of yours, he has a good long 
trot — how easy it makes your rise in the saddle, and 
how graceful is the gait. But here we are at the 
Ferry. Now, we cross thy stream, Niagara ! Now, 
we stand on British ground ! Generous and gallant 
blood has deeply stained its soil ! Observe these 
crumbling works — the old stone fort facing the river — 
the remains of ramparts and trenches — here a bastion 
— further on, a redoubt — there again lines and earth- 
works, forming a continuous circle of defence, but all 
now fast sinking to their original level. These are, or 
rather were, the fortress and defences of " Fort Erie." 
When some years since I rode over the ground with 
our kind and excellent friend, the Major, I listened 
with great interest to his narration of the part of the 
8 



114 NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE. 

campaign acted upon this spot and the adjoining coun- 
try. I will repeat it to you as we ride over it. Jump 
your horse upon this decaying mound — it was a bastion. 

Standing on this bastion, " Here," said the Major, 
** we had thrown up our lines, making the defences as 
strong as practicable. The British had also erected 
formidable works about half a mile in front, (the forest 
intervening,) composed of a large stone battery on 
their left, and two strong redoubts, from which they 
kept up an incessant discharge of shot and shells for 
several successive days, which was returned by us 
with equal vigour. At length a shell from their batte- 
ries having fallen upon it, blew up one of our small 
magazines, but with trifling injury to the rest of the de- 
fences. They greatly miscalculated the damage, and 
were elated with their success, and General Gaines 
received secret information that they intended to 
carry the works by storm on the following night. 
That night, said the Major, I shall not soon forget. 
It set in intensely dark and cloudy, extremely fa- 
vourable to the design of the enemy. Every thing 
was put in the fullest state of preparation to receive 
them. The men enthusiastically awaiting the attack, 
were ordered to lie on their arras. Extended along 
the lines, and manning the fort and bastion, our little 
army, in perfect silence, awaited their coming. 

The forest had been cleared about three hundred 
yards in front of our works — beyond that were, as you 



NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE. 115 

see, the woods. As the night wore on, w^e listened 
with earnestness to every sound. A Httle after mid- 
night, we heard on the dry leaves the stealthy sound 
of footsteps— pat — patter — patter. We listened — they 
came nearer. A short, sharp challenge : " Who goes 
there ? " issued from that farther redoubt. The foot- 
steps ceased, as if irresolute to advance or recede, and 
all was still. Another quick challenge — a rattle of the 
musket, as it fell into the hollow of the hand, — fol- 
lowed the reply : — " Picquet guard, forced in by the 
enemy's advance" — "Back, guard! back to your 
posts instantly, or we will fire upon you," rung the 
stern voice of our commanding officer. The footsteps 
of the stragglers slowly receded, and entire stillness 
again obtained. It was as profound as the darkness, 
not even the hum of an insect rose upon the ear. We 
laid our heads upon the ramparts, and listened with all 
our faculties. We listened. Perhaps half an hour 
elapsed, when we imagined we heard the dead, heavy 
sound of a large body of rnen — tramp — tramp — tramp 
— advancing through the pitchy darkness. A . few 
moments passed — a brisk scattering fire, and the pic- 
quets came in in beautiful order, under the brave sub- 
altern in command. The measured tread of disci- 
plined troops became apparent. Every sense was 
stretched to the utmost in expectancy — every eye en- 
deavoured to fathom the darkness in front, when, from 
Towson's battery, that towards the river, glanced a 



116 NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE. 

volley of musquetry, and in another instant, the whole 
line of the works, bastion, redoubt, and rampart, 
streamed forth one living sheet of flame. Two eigh- 
teens, mounted where we stand, were filled to the muz- 
zle with grape, cannister, and bags of musket-bullets 
— imagine their havoc. The enemy came on with 
loud shouts and undaunted bravery. By the continued 
glare of our discharges, we could see dense dark mas- 
ses of men, moving in columns to three separate points 
of attack upon our works. Our artillery and musketry 
poured on them as they advanced a continual stream 
of fire, rolling and glancing from angles, bastions, and 
redoubts. Repulsed — they were re-formed by their 
officers, and brought again to the charge, to be again 
repulsed. At such times, hours fly like minutes. A 
life appears concentrated to a moment. We had been 
engaged perhaps an hour — perhaps three, when I heard 
in that bastion of the Fort, a hundred feet from me, 
above the uproar, a quick, furious struggle, as if of men 
engaged in fierce death-fight ; a clashing of bayonets, 
and sharp pistol shots, mixed with heavy blows, and 
short quick breathing, such as you may have heard 
men make in violent exertion — in cutting wood with 
axes, or other severe manual labour. The conflict, 
though fierce, was short — the assailants were repelled. 
Those that gained a footing were bayonetted, or 
thrown back over the parapet. In a few moments, I 
heard again the same fierce struggle, and again fol- 



NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT EKIE. IH 

lowed the like result and stillness-if soilness could 
be said to exist under continual roar of musketry and 
artillery. A third time it rose, sudden and desperate ; 
it ceased, and presently a clear loud voice rose high 
above the battle from the bastion : " Stop firing m front 
there, you are firing on your friends." An instant ces- 
sation followed. We were deceived. In another 
moment, the voice of an officer with startling energy 
replied: "Aye, aye, we'll stop: give it them, men, 
aive it them ! "—and the firing, renewed, was continued 
with redoubled fury. The head of the centre column, 
composed of eight hundred picked men, the veterans of 
Eoypt, led by Lieut. Col. Drummond in person, after 
three several assaults, had gained possession of the 
bastion, and by that ruse, endeavoured to cause a ces- 
sation of the fire-a result that might have been fatal 
to ns, had not the deception been so soon discerned. 
But the prize was of little value, as the bastion was 
commanded by the interior of the works, andihe men, 
under cover of the walls of an adjoining barrack, 
poured into the gorge that led from it, a continued 
storm of musketry. The firing continued with una- 
bated fury. The enemy, repulsed with great loss m 
every attack, was unsuccessful on every pomt save 
that bastion, the possession of which they still retained 
-when I heard a groaning roll and shake of the earth, 
and instantly the bastion, bodies of men, timber, guns, 
earth and stones, were blown up in the air like a volcano, 



118 NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE. 

making every thing in the glare as clear as noonday. 
A descending timber dashed one of my artillerymen to 
pieces within a foot of my shoulder. Profound dark- 
ness and silence followed. Naught but the groans of 
the wounded and dying were heard. As if by mutual 
consent, the fighting ceased, and the enemy withdrew, 
repulsed on every side, save from the parapet which 
they purchased for their grave. A large quantity of 
fixed ammunition had been placed in the lower part, 
and a stray wad falling upon it, had blown them all up 
together. My duty required that I should immediately 
repair the bastion, and most horrible was the sight — 
bodies burnt and mutilated — some of them still pulsat- 
ing with life, among them Lieut. Colonel Drummond, 
the leader of the attack. There he lay in the morning 
light, stark and stiff, extended on the rampart, a ball 
having passed through his breast. History mourns, 
that his courage assumed the character of ferocity. 
His war-cry of " No quarter to the damned Yankees," 
his own death-warrant, was long remembered against 
his countrymen. The enemy did not resume the at- 
tack, but retiring to their entrenched camp, strength- 
ened their works, and prepared to make their approach 
by regular advances. 

But come, spur on, we have far to ride — spur on. 
Here we are upon their works. Here is the stone 
water-battery, and there the two strong redoubts, and 
back of them the remains of their lines, and deep en- 



NiaHT ATTACK ON FORT BHIE. UO 

1, ,. These are the works which were car- 
trenchments. Ihese arc „rT?nrtFrie 

ried in the memorable ar>d desperate sortie of Fort Eue 
The rlht by Davis and MiUer ; the left by Porter and 
SvoUtnteers. Here, on the left, ,uoth the M.orfel 
„,y gallant, u,y accomplished friend, Lteut. Col. ^ oo , 
at the head of his column. He was one of the mos 
Trmiant officers in the service, and as beataufu as a 
'a I often gazed with astorvishment at the despe- 
'1 darin. that characterised him in action ; here he 
; he Casbayonetted to death on the ground 
this spot- '-and the Major's vorce quivered a„d lie 
Sis face from me, for the cruel death of lus ear 
Tnd wa. too much for his manhood. His ashes sleep 
"Z the Highlands of the Hudson, beneath the 
monument, near the flag-staff at ^^ Po-t- ^e - 
to his gallant spirit! The stars of his country 
wave over no braver of her sons. 



BATTLE OF LUNDY'S LANE. 

We cross thy tranquil plains, Oh! Chippewa. 
Scott — Ripley — Towson — Hindman— brave soldiers ; 
long will this battle-ground your names remember. 
And thou too, Riall ! brave Englishman, foeman wert 
thou worthy of warriors' steel. But far different 
music has resounded through these continuous 
woods than the wild bird's carol, the hum of insects, 
and the waving of the breeze that now so gently gree% 
our ear. Ay ! yonder it is— yonder is the white house . 
There, said the Major, as General Scott, making a 
forward movement with his brigade in the afternoon of 
the 25th of July, 1814, came in view of it, we saw the 
court-yard filled with British officers, their horses held 
by orderlies and servants in attendance. As soon as 
we became visible to them, their bugles sounded to 
saddle, and in a few moments they were mounted and 
soon disappeared through the woods at full gallop, 
twenty bugles ringing the alarm from different parts of 
the forest. All vanished as if swallowed by the earth, 
save an elegant veteran officer, who reined up just out 
of musket shot, and took a leisurely survey of our 
numbers. Having apparently satisfied himself of our 
force, he raised the plumed hat from his head, and 



LANE. 121 

bowing gracefully to our cortege, put spurs to his 
horse and disappeared with the rest. From the occu- 
pant of the house we gathered that we were about a 
mile distant from a strong body of the enemy, posted 
in the rising ground just beyond the woods in our front. 
General Scott, turning to one of his escort, said, " Be 
kind enough, sir, to return to Major General Brown ; 
inform him that I have fallen in with the enemy's ad- 
vance, posted in force at ' Luiidy^s Lane,'' and that in 
one half hour, I shall have joined battle.'' *' Order up 
Ripley with the second brigade, — direct Porter to get 
his volunteers immediately under arms," was the brief 
reply of Major General Brown to my message, and the 
aids were instantly in their saddles, conveying the 
orders. As I galloped back through the woods, con- 
tinued the Major, the cannon shot screaming by me, 
tearino- the trees and sending the rail fences in the air 
in their course, warned me that the contest had begun. 
— But we are on the battle-ground. There, said the 
Major, upon the verge of that sloping hill, parallel 
with the road, and through the grave-yard towards the 
Niagara, was drawn up the British line under General 
Riall, in force three times greater than our brigade — his 
right covered with a powerful battery of nine pieces of 
artillery, two of them brass twenty-fours. 

The Eleventh and Twenty -second regiments first leav- 
ing the wood, deployed upon the open ground with the 
coolness and regularity of a review, — and were soon en- 



122 BATTLE OF LUNDy's LANE. 

gaged furiously in action ; the fire from the enemy's 
line and from the batteries, which completely command- 
ed the position, opening upon them with tremendous 
effect. Towson, having hurried up with his guns on the 
left, in vain endeavoured to attain sufficient elevation 
to return the fire of their battery. The destruction on 
our side was very great ; — the two regiments fought 
with consummate bravery. They were severely cut 
up, their ammunition became exhausted, and their offi- 
cers nearly all of them having been killed and wound- 
ed, they were withdrawn from action, — the few officers 
remaining unhurt throwing themselves into the Ninth, 
which now came into action, led by the gallant Colonel 
Leavenworth. 

The brunt of the battle now came upon them, and 
they alone sustained it for some time, fighting with un- 
flinching bravery, until their numbers were reduced to 
one-half by the fire of the enemy. At this juncture, 
General Scott galloped up with the intention of charg- 
ing up the hill ; but finding them so much weakened, 
altered his intention, entreating them to hold their 
ground until the reinforcements, which were hastening 
up, should come to their assistance. A momentary 
cessation of the action ensued, while additional forces 
hurried up to the aid of each army — Ripley's brigade, 
Hindman's artillery, and Porter's volunteers, on the part 
of the Americans, and a strong reinforcement under 
General Drummond on that of the British. Hindman's 



ii 



BATTLE OF LUNDY's LANE. 123 

artillery were attached to that of Towson, and soon 
made themselves heard. Porter's brigade displayed on 
the left, while Ripley formed on the skirts of the wood 
to the right of Scott's brigade. The engagement was 
soon renewed, with augmented vigour ; General Drum- 
mond taking command in person, with his fresh troops 
in the front line of the enemy. Colonel Jesup, who 
had at the commencement of the action been posted 
on the right, succeeded, after a gallant contest, in turn- 
ing the left flank of the enemy, and came in upon his 
reserve, " burdened with prisoners, making himself 
visible to his own army, amid the darkness, in a blaze 
of fire," completely destroying all before him. The 
fight raged for some time with great fury, but it be- 
came apparent, uselessly to the Americans, if the 
enemy retained possession of the battery, manifestly 
the key of the position. 

I was standing at the side of Colonel Miller, 
said the Major, when General Brown rode up and 
inquired, whether he could storm the battery with his 
regiment, while General Ripley supported him with 
the younger regiment, the Twenty-tUrd. Miller, amid 
the uproar and confusion, deliberately surveyed the 
position, then quietly turning with infinite coolness 
replied, *' Til try, sir:' 1 think I see him now, 
said the Major, as drawing up his gigantic figure to 
its full height, he turned to his regiment, drilled 
to the precision of a piece of mechanism, I hear 
his deep lion tones-" TwenUj.first^^iieniion !-form 



124 BATTLE OF LUNDy's LANE. 

into column. You will advance up the hill to the storm 
of the battery — at the word ' halt,' you will deliver 
your fire at the port-lights of the artillerymen, and im- 
mediately carry the guns at ihe point of the bayonet. 
— Support arms — double quick — march!" Machinery 
could not have moved with more compactness than that 
gallant regiment followed the fearless stride of its 
leader. Supported by the Twenty -ihird, the dark 
mass moved up the hill like one body, — the lurid light 
glittering and flickering on their bayonets, as the com- 
bined fire of the enemy's artillery and infantry opened 
murderously upon them. They flinched not — they 
faltered not — the stern deep voices of the oflicers, as the 
deadly cannon-shot cut yawning chasms through them, 
alone was heard. " Close up — steady, men — steady." 
Within a hundred yards of the summit, the loud 
*' Halt" was followed by a volley — sharp, instantane- 
ous, as a clap of thunder. Another moment, rushing 
under the white smoke, a short furious struggle with 
the bayonet, and the artillerymen were swept like chaflf 
from their guns. Another fierce struggle — the enemy's 
line was forced down the side of the hill, and the vic- 
tory was ours — the position entirely in our hands — 
their own pieces turned and playing upon them in 
their retreat. It was bought at cruel price — most 
of the officers being either killed or wounded. The 
whole tide of the battle now turned to this point. 
The result of the conflict depended entirely upon the 



BATTLE OF LUNDy's LANE 



125 



ability of the victorious party to retain it. Major 
Hindman was ordered up, and posted his forces at the 
side of the captured cannon, while the American line 
correspondingly advanced. Stung with mortification, 
the brave General Drummond concentrated his forces, 
to retake by a desperate charge the position. The in- 
terval amid the darkness was alone filled by the roar of 
the cataracts, and the groans of the wounded. He ad- 
vanced with strong reinforcements, outflanking each 
side of the American line. We were only able, in the 
murky darkness, to ascertain their approach by their 
heavy tread. " They halted within twenty paces- 
poured in a rapid fire and prepared for the rush." Di- 
rected by the blaze, our men returned it with deadly 
effect, and after a desperate struggle, the dense column 
recoiled. Another interval of darkness and silence, 
and again a most furious and desperate charge was 
made by the British, throwing the whole weight of their 
attack upon the American centre. The gallant Twenty- 
first, which composed it, receiving them with undaunted 
firmness— while the fire from our lines was "dread- 
fully eff'ective," Hindman's artillery served with the 
most perfect coolness and efi'ect. Staggering, they 
again recoiled. During this second attack, General 
Scott in person, his shattered brigade now consolidated 
into a single battalion, made two determined charges 
upon the right and left flank of the enemy, and in these 
he received the scars which his countrymen now see 



125 BATTLE OF LUNDy's LANE. 

upon his manly front. Our men were now almostw orn 
down with fatigue, dying with thirst, for which they 
could gain no relief The British, with fresh reinforce- 
ments — their men recruited and rested — after the in- 
terval of another hour, made their third and linal effort 
to regain the position. They advanced — delivered 
their fire as before — and although it was returned with 
the same deadly effect, they steadily pressed forward. 
The Twenty-first again sustained the shock, and both 
lines were soon engaged in a " conflict, obstinate and 
dreadful beyond description." The right and left of the 
American line fell back for a moment, but were imme- 
diately rallied by their officers. " So desperate did 
the battle now become, that many battalions on both 
sides were forced back," the men engaged in indiscri- 
minate melee, fought hand to hand, and with muskets 
clubbed ; and "so terrific was the conflict where the 
cannon were stationed, that Major Hindman had to 
engage them over his guns and gun-carriages, and 
finally to spike two of his pieces, under the apprehen- 
that they would fall into the hands of the enemy." 
General Ripley at length made a most desperate and 
determined charge upon both of the enemy's flanks — 
they wavered — recoiled — gave way — and the centre 
soon following, they relinquished the fight and made a 
final retreat. The annals of warfare on this continent 
have never shown more desperate fighting. Bayonets 
were repeatedly crossed, and after the action, many of 



BATTLE OF LUNDy's LANE. 127 

the men were found mutually transfixed. The British 
force ensfaged was about five thousand men ; — the 
American thirty-five hundred : the combined loss in 
killed and wounded, seventeen hundred and twenty- 
two, ofTicers and men. The battle commenced at half- 
past four o'clock in the afternoon, and did not terminate 
till midnight. We were so mingled, said the Major, 
and so great the confusion in the darkness, that as I 
was sitting with a group of officers in the earlier part 
of the night, on horseback, a British soldier came up to 
us, and recovering his musket, under the supposition that 
he was addressing one of his own officers, said, " Colo- 
nel Gordon will be much obliged, sir, if you will march 
up the three hundred men in the road to his assistance 
immediately, as he is very hard pressed." I called him 
nearer, and pressing his musket down over my holsters, 
__made him prisoner. *' What have I done, sir," said 
-iae astonished man, " what have I done ?" and to con- 
vince British officers, as he supposed, of his loyalty, 
exclaimed, " Hurrah for the King, and damn the Yan- 
kees." As he was marched to the rear, the poor fellow 
was cut down by a grape shot. In another part of the 
field, an American aid pulled up suddenly on a body 
of men under full march. In reply to his demand, 
" What regiment is that ?" he was answered, " The 
Royal Scots." With great presence of mind, he re- 
plied, " Halt ! Royal Scots', till further orders," and 
then turning his horse's head, galloped from their 



128 BATTLE OF LUNDy's LANE. 

dangerous proximity. It was a horrid conflict. Hu- 
manity sighs over the slaughter of the brave men that 
fell in it. 

But here we are, at the grave-yard, with its drooping 
willows and flowering locusts. Still — still — and quiet 
now. No armed men disturb its calmness and repose 
• — no ponderous artillery wheels rudely cut its conse- 
crated mounds — no ruflian jest — no savage execration 
— no moan of anguish, break now upon its hallowed 
silence. The long grass and blossoming heather 
waive green alike over the graves of friend and ene- 
my. The marble tells the story of the few — the 
many, their very parents know not their resting place. 
See this broken wooden slab — it has rotted ofl' even 
with the ground, and lies face downwards, the earth- 
worm burrowing under it, in this neglected corner. 
Pull the grass aside ; turn it over with your foot. What, 
the nearly eff'aced inscription ? 

TO THE MEMORY OF 

CAPT'N BROWN, 

OF THE 

21st Regiment 

WHO DIED OF WOUNDS RECEIVED INAC- 
TION, WITH THE ENEMY, ON THE 
2 5th of JULY, 1814." 



BATTLE OF LUNDy's LANE. 129 

And this is honour ! This is fame ! Why, brave 
man ! e'en now, I read the tribute to thy bravery in 
the bulletin of the action. Thou had'st comrades- 
father, mother, sisters-to mourn thy loss-and now, 
the stranger's foot carelessly spurns thy frail men.en- 
to ; nor father, mother, sisters, nor human hand can 
point to the spot where rest thy ashes. Peace to 
thy manes ! brave countrymen, where'er they sleep. 
See from this point how gently and gracefully undu- 
lates the battle-field ; the woods bowing to the evening 
breeze, as the soft sunlight pours through their branch- 
es show not the gashes of rude cannon shot— the 
plain, loaded and bending with the yellow harvest, 
betrays no human gore— yon hill scathed, scorched 
and blackened with cannon flame, the very resting place 
of the deadly battery, shows no relic of the fierce 
death-struggle, as covered with the fragrant clover and 
wild blue-bell, the bee in monotonous hum banquets 
o'er it. Nought mars the serenity of nature as she 
smiles upon us. Yet, burnt in common funeral pyre, 
the ashes of those brave men, of friend and foe, there 
mingle in the bosom whence they issued. The fren- 
zied'passion passed, the furious conflict o'er, they have 
lain down in quiet, and like young children, sleep 
gently, sweetly, in the lap of that common mother 
who shelters with like protection the little field mouse 
from its gambols, and the turbaned Sultan sinking 
amid his prostrate millions. Shades of my gallant 
9 



130 BATTLE OF LUNDy's LANE. 

countrymen ! Shades of their daring foes — farewell. 
Ne'er had warriors more glorious death-couch, — the 
eternal Cataracts roar your requiem. 

The reader's attention is requested to the more detailed ac- 
count of this action in the Appendix. The inscription on the tablet 
is given from recollection, and it is possible that the number of the 
Regiment may not be the one to which this officer belonged. 



LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA. 

The Sun of Morning liiirls himself in blazing splen- 
dour o'er thy crystal waters, beautiful Horicon ! as we 
float upon thy placid bosom, not as of yore, in feathery 
canoe, but in gaily-coloured bark, drawn by Steam 
Spirit, as he vainly strives to break his fiery prison. 
See, how he puffs and pants in the fierce embrace of 
the 'glowing element; in furious eff'orts dragging us 
onward with frantic swiftness, e'en as the frightened 
steed, the vehicle wildly bounding after him. As the 
valve of safety opens, hear the shriek of mad delight, 
with which exultingly he proclaims his freedom :— 
now, the iron portal closed, how like Sampson in the 
Prison Mill, struggling, giant-like, he again applies 
him to his toil. Imprisoned Spirit ! there is no help 
for thee. Sweat thou must, and pant, and groan, till, 
like thy fellow-labourer, man, released from fire fetter, 
as he of earth, resolved to pure ether, thou shalt float 
again free and delighted in the clear elements above ! 

Ho I brother spirit, tarry, tarry— wait thou a little 
'till I join thee,-then, how gallantly we'll ride ! 
Couched on summer clouds, lazily we'll float: or, 
glancing on sun rays, shoot swift as thought, 'mid the 
brioht worlds rolling in sublimity above us. We'll 



132 LAKE GEORGE AND 

bathe in the Moon's cold splendour, fan in the sultry 
heat of crimson Mars, slide upon Saturn's eternal 
snows, or joyously gambolling along the Milky Way, 
we'll chase the starry Serpent to his den. Ho ! bro- 
ther spirit ; — but, we must bide our time — madly now 
in wild career, thou sweep'st the placid lake from un- 
der us. 

But whom have we here ? A sturdy hunter in home- 
spun clad, with his long rifle — his broad-chested 
hounds in quiet, sleeping at his feet ; our fellow-pas- 
senger, 'till landed on some mountain side, he follows 
his sylvan war. Clear animal health and vigour shine 
from each lineament — with what open, unsuspicious 
manhood — what boundless freedom he comports him- 
self. Ha ! what is it, hound 1 What is it ? Why dost 
shake thy pendant ears and gaze so keenly in the dis- 
tance — and why that plaintive howl ? Ay, ay, hunter, 
thy practised eye hath caught it. On yon wooded 
island to the windward — a noble buck with graceful 
form and branching antlers. He sees us not, but the 
dog's quick senses have caught his scent upon the 
passing wind. Still, boy, still ! Pilot, put her a little 
more under the island. Hunter, lend me thy rifle — 
launch the canoe. Come, hunter — peace — peace — 
keep the dogs on board ; paddle for yonder point — now 
we shoot upon the pebbly beach — now make her fast 
to this dead log. We'll steal gently through the woods 
and come upon him unawares. Softly — press those 



i 



TICONDEROGA. 133 

vines away ; whist — avoid the rustling of the branches ; 
here, creep through these bushes — tread Hghtly on the 
fallen leaves — you'll mire upon that swampy bottom. 
Hush — hush — tread softly — that crackling branch ! 
He lifts his head — he looks uneasily about him — stand 
quiet. Now he browses again ; get a little nearer — 
we are within distance. I'll try him — click. Back 
go the antlers — the cocking of the rifle has alarmed 
him — he's of!'! Here goes, hit or miss — crack — he 
jumps ten feet in the air. I've missed him — he bounds 
onward — no — yes — by Jove ! he's down — he's up 
again — he plunges forward — he falls again — he rises 
— falls — he struggles to his knees — he falls. Hur- 
rah ! he's ours — quick — quick — thy couteau de chasse, 
we'll make sure of him. Stop — stop. Poor deer ! 
and I have murdered thee, for my sport have murdered 
thee — have taken from thee the precious boon of life 
— with cruelty have broken the silver chord, which 
the beggar's blunt knife can sever, but not the jew- 
elled fingers of the monarch again rejoin. There- 
there, thou liest, true to the Great Master's picture — 

" The big round tears course down thy innocent nose in 

piteous chase, 
" And thy smooth leathern sides pant almost to bursting." 

Thy life blood flows apace — e'en now thy large soft 
eye dims in the sleep of death — and / have slain thee. 
Thou had'st nought other enemy than the gaunt cow- 
ard wolf, or fanged serpent ; him, with light leaping 



134 LAKE GEORGE AND 

bounds, thou laugh'st to scorn, as his long howl struck 
on thy quick ear ; and the sullen rattler, with many 
blows of thy tiny polished hoof thou dash'st to pieces, 
ere from his deadly coil, his flattened head, with glis- 
tening tongue and protruded fangs, could reach thee. 
Oh ! I shame me of my miscreant fellowship. E'en 
the poisonous serpent, with quick vibrating tail, did 
give thee warning — I stole upon thee unawares. 
Hunter ! take again thy weapon ; for thee — 'tis thy 
vocation — perhaps 'tis well — the game is thine. I 
entreat of thee, let not my innocent victim again re- 
proach my eye-sight. So ! here is the canoe — we 
again embark — we rock against the steamer's side — 
and now again rush onward in our swift career. Islands 
glide by us in countless numbers. The frightened 
trout scales in quick alarm from the splashing water- 
wheels, while echo, mocking their watery clamour, 
wakes the old mountains from their sleepy stillness, 
who again, like drowsy giants, relapse into repose as 
we leave them far behind us. 

Ticonderoga, we approach thy shore. Ay — true to 
appointment — here are the horses.* Mount — on we 
go, over hillock and valley, through brake, through 
brier, through mud, through water, through swamp, 
through mire ; we gallop over the broad green penin- 
sula — leap the entrenchments — thread the lines. Here 
is the citadel — descend the moat ; the wild dank 
weeds and furze o'ertop our heads. Ay — here's a 



TICONDEROGA. 135 

chasm — a breach, in the ancient walls ; spur up — spur 
up ; now we draw rein within .the very centre of the 
blackened ruins. How lovely the view, from the soft 
undulating promontory — the lake bathing its sides ; 
Horicon's mountains o'erlooking it on this — the stal- 
wart yeomen of the verdant State, free as the winds, 
on that ! Oh ! Ticonderoga, midst these uncultivated 
wilds — these silent mountains — various and eventful 
hath been thy history. 

Ho ! Old Time — how calmly strok'st thou thy long 
greybeard, as seated on the broken ruins, thouponder- 
est their past ! Come ! come, old father ! ascend this 
crumbling battlement — lean on my shoulder — I, as yet, 
am straightest — I will hold thy scythe. Now point to 
me the drama which past generations have acted upon 
this green peninsula. 

What do I see ? I see the savage life — the light 
canoe floating on the blue lake — painted warriors spear- 
ing the salmon, chasing the deer upon the plain, dragging 
the surly bear in triumph, — I see the swift paddle chase 
— I hear the laugh of children — the voice of patient 
squaws — the distant yell as rounding the point, the re- 
turning braves bemoan the dead left on the war-path, and 
as the shades of evening close, the sun in golden radi- 
ance retiring o'er the mountains, I see them congregate 
in wigwams in the cove. — The blue smoke rises gently 
o'er the tree tops, and all is still — quiet and serenity 
obtain — the whip-poor-will, and cricket, amid the 
drowsy hum of insect life, keep melancholy cadence. 



136 LAKE GEORGE AND 

" Stranger ! venture not near them — the peace is 
treacherous. No civilized challenge shall give thee 
warning, but the cruel war-shriek wildly ring o'er the 
insensate brain as the light tomahawk trembles in thy 
cloven skull.'' 

Wild mist rolls onward — I hear sounds of distant 
music — the mellow horn — the clashing cymbals break 
from its midst. Ah ! it rises. A gallant army, in proud 
array, with flags and banners — bright glittering arms, 
and ponderous artillery. With alacrity they effect 
their landing. They fraternise w4th the red-skinned 
warriors. Their military lines run round like magic. 
I feel, e'en where we stand, huge walls, grim towers 
rise, and bastions springing up around us — the spotless 
drapeau blanc, high o'er our heads, floats in the breeze 
— wild chansons of love, of war, of la belle France, 
mix with mirth and revelry. 

"Stranger, 'tis the quick 'Qui Vive'' that doth 
arrest thy footstep." 

Ay — now, Old Time, the mystic curtain again rolls 
upwards. What do I see? — Red-coated soldiers ad- 
vancing in proud battalia through the forest glades, the 
sunbeams dancing on their bayonets. I hear the sound 
of bugles — the clamorous roll of drums, the groaning 
jar and creak of heavy-wheeled artillery. Spread along 
the lines, covered with sharp abattis and water moat, 
I see the impatient Gaul, with savage ally in ambush- 
ment, await their coming— they advance with despe- 



TICONDEROGA. 137 

rate valour, — they ford the ditch, they hew the sharpen- 
ed trees with axes. In vain — the balls like hail, from 
unseen foes murderously destroy them — their leader 
falls — hark ! the bugle with melancholy wail sounds 
their retreat. 

Again, Old Time, an interval — again red-coated 
soldiers ! again groaning artillery ! Look up ! — the 
drapeau blanc has vanished — the meteor flag streams 
proudly from the flag-staff. 

*• Stranger, 'tis the Anglo-Saxon's rough challeng e 
that gruffly breaks upon thy ear." 

Long peace and silence — Old Father, now obtain — 
the sentry sleeps upon his post — women and children 
play upon the ramparts — but, hark ! what is it far in 
the distance that I hear ! the sound of battle ! the fusi- 
lade of musketry — the roar of cannon ! I see Bun- 
ker's Hill from light barricade sweep down her thou- 
sands — I see hurrying forward the hardy husbandman 
with hastily caught musket — the robed divine — the 
youth — the old man — cheered on by mothers — sisters 
— tender wives, — to strike 

" For their altars and their fires, 
God, and their native homes." 

I see new Nation's symbol — Stars and Stripes — and 
watch, now in the midnight darkness through the for- 
tress moat — how advance that fearless band of men — 
Lo ! in silence they penetrate the fortress' centre. 
Hark ! what voice rouses the astonished officer, as 



13S LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROOA. 

Starting from his slumbers, he meets, close at his throat, 
the bayonet's threatening point. " Surrender !" "To 
whom ?" " The Great Jehovah, and the Continental 
Congress !" 

Now floats the spangled banner proudly o'er the 
citadel — patriotic men assemble — armies make tem- 
porary resting place — invalid soldiers breathe the 
health-restoring air, and age wears on. Ha! — was 
that a meteor flashing from Defiance Mountain sum- 
mit? And there, another? — Plunge ! plunge ! Cannon 
shot ! screaming, yelling, bounding i' th' very centre 
of the fortress. 

*' 'Tis the Englishman with his artillery." 

Quick, quick ! — St. Clair, withdraw the army — the 
position is no longer tenable. Strike not that flag ! — 
palsied be the hand that so degrades the flag of Free- 
dom — let it shake defiance to the last ! Quick, the 
magazine — the train — Ha, hah ! iEtna, Vesuvius 
like, the explosion. 

Hallo ! Old Time !— Ho ! thou of the scythe !— 
What ! hast gone ? Am I ! — ay, I am alone ! Nought 
but the blackened ruins, and the crumbling ramparts, 
in silence surrounding me. 



MONTREAL, 



Now, in steam palace, we shoot in swift career o'er 
thy tranquil surface, Lake Champlain — thy rolling 
mountains, in wavy outline, accompanying us in our 
rapid progress. Vast primeval forests sleep in still- 
ness along thy borders — their sylvan patriarchs, reign- 
ing for centuries, untouched by woodman's axe, stretch 
proudly their far-reaching branches, 'till ancient Time, 
pointing with extended finger the wild spirit of the 
winds breathes on them as he passes, and they succumb 
with sullen uproar, long with mock semblance re- 
taining form and length, as if deriding the puny off- 
spring shooting up around them ; bestowing sore fall, 
I ween, and tumble on adventurous hunter, as stum- 
bling through the undergrowth he plunges prostrate 
o'er them. 

Forests immense cover the mountains, the gorges, val- 
leys, reigning in stern solitude and silence, save where 
the fierce fire-god, serpent-like, pursues his flaming 
journey. There, followed by wreathing smoke columns, 
forward he leaps, with fiery tongue licking up acres — 
while the waterpools hissing in mist, join in his escort, 
and the wild game, with frantic swiftness, strive to es- 



140 MONTREAL. 

cape the hot destruction of his embraces. With steady, 
noiseless progress, the white villages appear and dis- 
appear beside us. Rouse's skeleton Tower looms 
largely in the distance ; — now 'tis passed. 

Thy military works, and crimson flag, Isle Aux Noix, 
— town of St. Johns, Richelieu, La Prairie, — we 
pass ye all ; and advancing in soft summer atmos- 
phere, Chambly, we behold thy mountain ramparts 
filling the far distance. St. Lawrence, majestic river, 
stretched like sheet of polished steel, as far as eye 
can reach, we stand upon thy level shores. Rapid — 
wide, rushing expanse of waters, with what glorious 
brightness thou look'st upon thy verdant shores, cov- 
ered with continuous lines of snow-white cottages, and 
listenest to the soft music of the religious bells of the 
kind-hearted, cheerful habitans — as, with rude painted 
cross upon their door posts, they scare away the fiend, 
and joyously intercommune, in honest simple neigh- 
bourhood. La Chine — we speed o'er thy surface, with 
race-horse swiftness, and now Montreal., — beautiful — 
most beautiful, — couched at the foot of emerald moun- 
tain, liest thou upon the river's margin, thy spires, 
roofs, cupolas, glittering in the sun-beams with silver 
radiance, and thy grand cathedral chimes floating on- 
wards till lost in dreamy distance. We land upon thy 
granite quay — measure the extended esplanade — now 
climb thy narrow streets and alleys. Almost we 
think we tread one of thy antique cities, ancient France, 



MONTREAL. 



141 



—alleys narrow, dark and gloomy courts, grim inhospi- 
table walls,— in place of airy casement, gratings and 
chained iron porters, —military barracks,~nunneries,— 
prisons,— fantastic churches, and Notre Dame's cloud- 
piercing towers, in huge architectural pile, looming 
high above all. Noisy, chattering habitans, in variega- 
ted waist-belts, and clattering sabots, rotund dark- 
robed priests, lank voyageurs— red-coated soldiers, and 
haughty officers,— jostle each other on the narrow 
trottoir— but, mark ! the sullen, down-cast Indian, in 
blanket robed, with gaudy feathers and shining orna- 
ments, his patient squaw, straight as an arrow, her pierc- 
ing-eyed papoose clinging to her shoulders, silently 
following him, in noiseless moccasins, moves along the 
kennel. Verily, poor forest child, it hath been writ- 
ten, and Moslem like, thou to thy destiny must bow— 
the fire-water and the Christian will it— fold thee closer 
in thy blanket robe, and— die. See yon Indian girl, 
standing at the corner— with what classic grace the 
blue fold drapery thrown o'er her head, descends 
her shoulders, as, fawn-like, she stands, avoiding the 
rude passer's stare. 

Hardy ponies, in light calash, dash through the 
narrow streets, of passengers' safety regardless; 
or, tugging at great trucks, strive, in renewed ex- 
ertionrto vociferous cries and exclamations of the 
volatile Canadian. How well these Englishmen sit 
their horses. See that gentleman-with what deli- 



142 MONTREAL. 

cate hand he reins the fiery blood that treads as if 
on feathers beneath him — and how picturesque appear, 
amid the motley throng, these re^j^-coated soldiers. 

Picturesque ! I like them not — they indicate a subju- 
gated people. Come ! here stands one at the Champ 
de Mars — how martially he deports himself — his ex- 
actly poised musket, and his brazen ornaments — how 
bright ! Inscribed upon his gorget are the actions 
which have signalized his regiment, — " Badajos" — 
*' Salamanca" — " Vittoria" — " Waterloo." We will 
address him. Soldier, your regiment was at Salaman- 
ca, — "*S-i-r." By the inscription on your gorget, your 
regiment distinguished itself at Salamanca — " scaled 
the imminent deadly breach" at " Badajos" — stood the 
Cuirassiers wild charge amid the sulphurous smoke at 
Waterloo? — "Don't know, indeed, s-i-r." And is 
this the gallant soldier ! Why, for years, under the 
menace of thy sergeant, thou hast scoured that gorget 
to regulation brightness — for years hast marched un- 
der thy regimental colours emblazoned with those 
characters, and still in ignorance, need'st a Cham- 
poillion to decipher them. 'Tis well. Thou art the 
machine, indeed, that they require. — Verily, thy daily 
wage of sixpence, and thy ration, are full compensa- 
tion for thy service. 

Listen ! The masses hurrying forward in the 
western hemisphere — whether to happiness and 
equality, — or furious license and bloody anarchy — 



MONTREAL. 143 

with joyous shouts, and cries of freedom, arouse 
the echo. Dost hear above hoarse cries of " bread,'' 
and mob hurrah's — confused sounds — low muttering 
thunder — the rend and clank of chains that o'er the 
broad Atlantic roll from old Europe ? 'Tis the chariot 
wheels of Liberty, as charging onwards she sweeps 
away rust-covered chains, and feudal bands, like maze 
of cobwebs, from her path. Hear ! The Nations cry 
for Constitutions — the monarchs hurrying with ghastly 
smiles grant their request — the people would take them 
else. Therefore prepare thee, for wilt thou or thy 
rulers — the time surely approaches. Expand thy mind 
— cultivate thy intelligence — study thy God — so that 
when the hour arrives, in the first wild bounds of free- 
dom, as the desert steed thou dash not thyself to pieces; 
nor, like the frantic Gaul, bursting from imprisonment 
of ages, gore thyself with thine own broken fetters, 
rushing on to deeds of blood and frenzy that cause hu- 
manity to shudder. Ponder it, soldier ! fare thee well. 



THE NUN. 

Now as we pass, look up! How minute appears the 
collossal statue of Our Lady in its niche on the vast 
front of the cathedral. And the nunneries — self-con- 
stituted prisons for those whom God hath born to free- 
dom — how like birds of evil omen they do congregate. 
Here is that of the Grey Order. Ring at the gateway 
— we will enter. Here we pass the court-yard ; how 
still, how gloomy, and how prison-like ! This is their 
hospital. Piteous collection ! The blind, the halt, the 
maimed, the hideously deformed — consumption — palsy 
— the wrecks of fevers ! See ! with what continued 
torture that wretched being writhes in her fixed posi- 
tion. Oh ! this is the small spark of good amid the 
black brands of evil. These orphan children are 
kindly cared for, but where the childlike joy and 
mirthful freedom ! With what stealthy step the 
officials move about their duties along the silent corri- 
dors ! and, — aye ! here is the chapel, with its gilded 
altars, its ornaments, its embroideries, its bleeding 
hearts, its sacred symbols. See with what gentleness 
the " Lady^^ performs the servile duties of the sanctu 
ary ! with what humility she bends before the altar. 
Oh ! how beautiful that cheek of tint of Indian shell ; 



THE NUN. 145 

those dark romantic eyes, with their long pensile lash- 
es ; that nose of Grecian outline ; the small vermilion 
mouth; the throat and neck of snow, and the glossy 
raven tresses escaping in rich luxuriance from the 
plaited coif as they fall upon her sloping shoulders. 
Mournful seems her devotion — now rising she stands 
before the Mater Dolorosa ; now wistfully gazes down 
the dark long corridor, in sorrowful meditation. Hush! 
be silent. I will steal gently near her. Lady ! Turn 
not — 'tis thy kind spirit whispers — art thou content ? 
Does thy young active soul find employ congenial in 
these gloomy mysteries ? Does thy springing, youth- 
ful heart, sympathize in these cold formalities — this 
company of grim-visaged saints and bearded martyrs 
with joy enchain thee ? Does the passionate imagina- 
tion and deep feeling flashing in those dark eyes — the 
already hectic kindling of that cheek, look with plea- 
sure to long years — a life of cold monotonous routine 
— of nightly vigils — fastings — of painful mortifications ? 
Lady ! listen. They chain thy soul. Break thou 
away. Quick in thy youth, fly from them, fly. One 
moment. Speak not. See'st thou yon cottage peer- 
ing from its green shades and gravelled walks — its 
parterres of the myrtle and the lily, its diamond lattice 
enwreathed and almost hidden in the embrace of sweet- 
smelling honeysuckles and clustering roses — and its 
interior M'ith its simple yet delicate refinements t 
See'st thou in snowy dishabille the lovely woman ? 
10 



146 THE NUN. 

with what heart-felt glee the frolicking, half-naked 
child, with chubby arms, almost suffocates in its 
little em.brace her neck, its golden ringlets ming- 
ling like streams of light 'mid her dark tresses, — 
with what ecstasy she enfolds him in her embraces, 
with maternal lips pressing in exquisite delight the 
plump alabaster shoulders ? Lady, such scenes, not 
gloomy walls, invite thee — nay 'tis not the voice of the 
Tempter — 'tis not, as they will tell thee, the poisonous 
breath of the many- coloured serpent stealing o'er thy 
senses. Let bearded men, wrecked on their own 
fierce lawless passions, seek these dark cells, 
these painful vigils, these unmeaning mortifications. 
They are not for thee. The world awaits thy 
coming. The pawing steed, throwing the white 
froth flakes o'er his broad chest, impatiently awaits 
thee. Fly, dear lady, fly — the joyous, carrol- 
ling birds, the dew-spangled meadows, cry, Come. 
The green, green trees — the bubbling water-falls 
' — the soft summer breezes — the rosy tinted East 
— the gorgeous drapery of the West — cry to thee. 
Come. The voice of thy lover, frantic at thy self- 
sacrifice — the voice of him who in the fragrant 
orange bower encircled thy slender waist, whilst, 
with heightened colour and downcast eyes, thou lis- 
ten'd to his rapid vows — the voice of him, who with 
thy glossy raven tresses floating on his shoulder, and 



T H E N U N . 1 47 

thy warm, sweet breath, mingling with his, lavished 
soul, existence, all, on thee, — in agony cries, Dearest, 
dearest, come. Nay, nay, 'tis but for thy happiness, — 
I leave thee — exclaim not — I am gone. 



CATARACTS OF NIAGARA. 

Now — on, on — over the Chute, and down the Rapid 
— leaping the SauUs — through the rivers, over the 
islands — we glide — we glide — we rush — we fly. Ho ! 
Ariel, beautiful spirit, riding on thy rainbow — shoot 
not thy silver arrows at us as we pass. Tricksy spirit 
— fare thee well — now far in the distance, fare — thee — 
well ! Ha ! ha ! — Old frolic Puck — sweating, panting, 
holding thy lubbard sides — we race — we race — we 
pass thee too — in vain thou strugglest to o'ertake us. 
Farewell — farewell. Go pinch the housemaids — 
tickle vrith straws the snoring herdsmen — tumble 
about the dusty mows — sprinkle sweet hay before the 
ruminating cattle — clutch by the tail the cunning fox, 
as stealthily he crawls within the hen-roost — and anon 
rub thy hands in glee o'er the embers on the capa- 
cious kitchen hearth, and on all-fours cut antics with 
the glowering cat, as with bowed back and shining 
eyes she watches thee i' th' corner — peer into the 
kettles and into the jars — see whether the barm rises 
— whether the yeast doth work ; till with clash — ' 
clatter — the metal lid slips from thy fingers on the 
hearth-stone, and villain-like, thou shoot'st up the 
hinmey, with " Ho ! ho ! ho ! " laughing at the sleepy 



CATARACTS OF NIAGARA. 149 

yeoman, as half covered, with oaken cudgel grasped, 
shivering, he peers through the door-crack the cause 
o' th' uproar. Farewell, farewell, mirthful goblin — 
farewell, farewell. Ontario, we waft across thy sur- 
face. Queenstown, thy sanguinary heights, crowned 
with braA^e Briton's monument, we pass, and now the 
rising mist-wreaths warn us of thy approach, Niagara. 
Huzza ! huzza ! now for a bath under the roaring 

o 

Cataract. In what wild chaos of waters the clamo- 
rous rapids, as if from the horizon, rush down upon us 
— ^jumping, leaping, boiling, in fierce confusion ; and 
this frail bridge, how it groans and shakes in the tor- 
rent's sweep ! A slip from Mahomet's sword edge 
o'er the awful Hades, would not consign us to more 
inevitable destruction, than would a treacherous plank 
or rotten beam from this shaking platform. We tread 
the deep green woods of Goat Island, their mossy trunks 
covered with love-marks of Orlandos and Rosalinds ; 
and, amid the roar, descend the great Ferry stair-case 
— stop a moment at this landing — step out. How the 
solid earth shakes — ^jars and vibrates ! How the wild 
winds rush by us, as the huge fluid arch stretches 
over with continuous plunge — and see that group of 
wild-flowers — scarlet, green, and purple — smiling in 
beauty beyond the reach of human hand, glistening in 
moisture midst the very spray in the rock cleft. But 
— haste — haste ! Here is the boatman. Leap in— 
leap in ! Now how, in our little cockle-shell bark, we 



150 CATARACTS OF NIAGARA. 

whirl and sport in the eddies, o'er the fathomless depths 
below, like wing-borne insects playing over the abyss. 
We land — ascend the heights — we pass the sen- 
try. At the tiring house. We robe ourselves for 
the enterprise — tarpaulin coats — hats bound with old 
rope — trowsers of tow cloth — shoes of cowhide — ha ! 
ha ! But quick, descend the long spiral stair-case. 
Now, Guide — we follow. Beware you fall not on 
these sharp, slippery rocks. We approach. The 
Table Rock hangs over us. In grandeur the solid 
fluid mass falls precipitate. Prepare. Turn as you 
enter — hold down your head — repress your breath: 
are you ready ? Rush ! We are beneath the yawn- 
ing chasm — soaked in an instant. Like furious rain- 
storm, and wind, and tempest all combined, this wild, 
friglitful roar. What ? Scream louder, louder. Hold 
firm by the guide — a slip from this narrow ledge — 
and — whew — splash — dead in our faces — almost suf- 
focated. Turn to the dripping rock wall, and catch 
your breath till the wind rush again lifts the watery 
curtain. Slimy eels glide by — darkness deep above 
— dim light strives to reach us through the cataract 
sheets. We are at the extreme verge. Guide — 
guide — ha ? — what indicates that motion of thy lips — 
closer — close in my ear. " Termination rock." Turn 
— turn — splash — swash — drenched — suffocated — re- 
turn, return. We see again the light. Rush ! We 
stand once more in the clear open sun-light. Whew ! 



CATARACTS OF NIAGARA. 151 

— puff — dripping — dripping — a sliower-bath worthy of 
old Neptune. How delightfully our nerves spring 
under its exhilarating influence. Take care — ngain 
these slippery stones. Beware ! beware ! Here we 
ascend aijain the stair-case. In the attirina-room. 
Towels — brushes — Christians once more. 

Come — come ! Now to the Table Rock. See with 
what treacherous glitter the wide Niagara stretches in 
perfect smoothness far towards Chippewa, till, descend- 
ing upon us, it shoots the rapids o'er their rocky beds 
like things of life, and with wild rush around the 
island, sweeps resistless o'er the awful cataracts, a 
roaring hurricane of waters. Give me your hand — 
lean forward — look into the abyss — careful. Evil 
spirits take us at advantage at such times, and whisper 
us to leap forward. How lashed in milky whiteness 
the huge gulf boils and foams as the waters plunge 
fractured, disjointed, tumbling in masses— and the 
wild birds, how fearlessly they skim amid the white 
mist rising from its surface. How the earth shudders 
and trembles around us. You are already dizzy. 
Come back from the edge. How awful — how terribly 
sublime ! How tame — how useless, helpless descrip- 
tion ! Would that I, with voice of inspiration, could 
command language adequate to pourtray the grandeur 
of the scene under stern Winter's reign ! Transcend- 
antly beautiful once I saw it ! A thaw and rain, fol- 
lowed by sudden chill and cold, had clothed all the 



152 CATARACTS OF NIAGARA. 

forest — every hedge and shrub, with transparent coat 
of ice. Gnarled oaks, from massive trunk to their 
extremest twigs, became huge crystal chandeliers. 
The ever-green pines and hemlocks, with long lancing 
branches, — great emeralds ; lithe willows, sweeping, 
glassy cascades; the wild vines, stiff in silvery trellices 
between them ; the undergrowth, with scarlet, blue and 
purple berries, candied fruits. The pools of frozen 
water at their feet, dark sheets of adamant ; and ever 
and anon, as the north wind passed o'er them, the 
forest was Golconda, Araby — one Ind of radiant gems, 
quivering with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, in glitter- 
ing splendour; pearls, emeralds, hyacinths, chryso- 
lites, falling in showers, as fractured from their crack- 
ling branches, they strewed the snowy bed stretched 
smooth around them. That wide, smooth river, far 
above the Rapids, ice-chained, a solid snow-white bed, 
gleaming in the midday sun. Yon tower, misshapen 
giant phantom, ice god, in frozen shroud and winding- 
sheet, firmly fixed 'mid the swift running waters : — 
huge stalactite icicles, Winter's hoary beard, hanging 
in fantastic curtains from each rock ledge — pinnacle — 
projection ; while on the black rapids, the vast ice- 
fields breaking in masses, piled in wild confusion, 
grinding and swaying on their treacherous holds, till 
gathering momentum, with slide and plunge — sub- 
merged, they swept onward 'mid the wild roar of the 
cataracts, which, with stern, resistless power, held 



CATARACTS OF NIAGARA. 153 

their terrific course. Those huge sheets, those watery 
arches, those green beryl masses, pkmging in resist- 
less fury, unabated vastness, with desperate leaps into 
the foaming abyss below, the spray falling in silver 
showers, pierced by the sun's rays dancing around 
them in countless rainbows ; while the ice avalanches, 
breaking from their grasps on the surrounding rocks 
and precipices, with booming plunge and uproar, fell 
crashing, — buried in the dark whirlpools, boiling in 
the fathomless depths below. The dark river, in tor- 
rents of copperas-hue, whirling in eddies, rushing o'er 
its deep rocky bed — in savage contrast with the snow- 
covered precipices that chained it to its course. Deep, 
resistless sweep of waters ! black as despair — Sadoc 
here were to thee the waters of Oblivion — here that 
Lethe, which, till other worlds received thee, should 
blot existence from keenest memory. 

The voice of the Unseen addressed the afflicted 
Patriarch from the whirlwind's midst — us does it warn 
from this chained whirlwind of the waters. Sublime, 
terrible, indescribable, as is this scene by human 
tongue, how tamely all its grandeur sinks beneath the 
catastrophe, which the being of future ages shall sur- 
vey, — or would, if with eagle's wings he could soar 
high in the clouds above it, — when the narrow rock-belt 
which Niagara for by-gone centuries has been slowly 
wearing, severed, the light tract alluvial crumbhng — the 
whole chain of inland oceans — Huron, Erie, Michigan, 



154 CATARACTS OF NIAGARA. 

with awful wildness and destruction, sweep in second 
deluge o'er this outlet— the adamantine rocks sinking 
like snow-wreaths from their beds— all principalities", 
kingdoms, states— whate'er they shall be— betweeii 
the Atlantic and the Alleghanies, the Labrador and 
Mexico— swept from existence, and in their place a 
heaving surge— wild waste of waters. Fool ! revolve 
this scene terrific in thy heart— ponder it well— then, 
if thou canst, say, indeed, there is no God ! Thy life, 
at best a flickering taper, shall soon meet extinguish- 
ment. Then shall there be an eternity to convince 
thee. 



MOUNT IIOLYOKE. 

Here we are in the middle of the month of August. 
The " world " have long since fled the hot walls and 
blazing pavements of old Gotham, and even the very 
school. boys are let loose from their pale-faced peda- 
gogues, to frolic like young colts in the country. 
Come, let us not alone remain in the sweltering city. 
Throw a few things in your carpet-bag — ay, that is 
sufhcient. Make me the guide. We will leave Sara- 
toga and Rockaway to their flirtations — another field 
is before us. Now, Eastward ho ! shall lie our course. 
Distance and time are left behind us — already we 
are ensconced at the Mansion House in this most 
lovely of villages, " Northampton the beautiful." 

Well does it deserve the name. Come one moment 
to the corner of this piazza. Look down the long 
avenues. See the symmetrical verdant arches, form- 
ed by the boughs of the antique elms, bending toward 
each other in loving fraternity ; and see the snow- 
white houses at their feet, their court-yards smiling 
with flowers ; and see the still more smiling faces that 
glance behind their transparent windows. That will 
do — you have stared long enough at the demure beauty 
behind the green blinds. Look this way, and witness 



156 MOUNT HOLYOKE. 

the refined taste exhibited in the graceful cottages, as 
they stand in relief against the dark back-ground of 
the forest, — the Grecian column, the Gothic arch, the 
Italian verandah, cottage and temple, all spread around 
you like the city of your dreams. Truly it seems, as 
it mostly is, the abode of retired gentlemen — a very 
Decameron sort of a place in this working-day world 
of ours. But, aliens ! Are we not Americans ? Why 
should we rest? To breakfast — behold a regular 
Yankee feast. Snow-white bread, and golden butter, 
— chickens that one short hour since dreamed of bins 
of corn and acres of oats on their roosts in the lofty | 
barn, — steaks, pies, tea, preserves, the well-browned 
cakes, and last, not least, the sparkling amber cider. 
Blessincfs on the heart of the nice looking damsel at 
the coffee urn, with her red cheeks and neat check 
apron. But, egad ! my dear friend — prudence ! hold . 
up — we have to ascend the mountain, and you will not 
find the feast that you are stowing away with such "' 
Dalgetty industry, likely to improve your wind. That 
last hot roll lengthens our ascent just one quarter of an 
hour. There ! the horses are neighing, and impa- 
tiently champing the bit at the door. Are you ready ? 
Come then. Look out, lest that fiery devil throw you 
on the bosom of our common mother, earth ! — your 
bones would find her a step-dame — those flaming nos- 
trils are sworn enemies to your long spur gaffs. But 
here we go ! How balmy and delightful the cool air 



MOUNT HOLYOKE. 157 

of the morning ! — the verdant grass rises gracefully — 
the wild flower shakes its tiny bells, and drinks the 
dewy diamond glittering on its lips, as it waves gently 
o'er them. The rich yellow sun mocks the trees, as 
it rolls out their broad shadows on the velvet turf be- 
neath — while from knoll and waving mullen stalk, the 
meadow-lark, with out-stretched neck and piercing 
eye, utters his sweet notes in almost delirious rapture. 
We clear the broad meadows. Our very horses, with 
ears erect, gather speed with every bound, and seem 
ready to cry ha ! ha ! We are the fabled centaurs of 
old. 

See ! see ! — the heavy morning mist, rising in huge 
volumes, reluctantly bares the forest on the mountain 
side, — it curls and breaks in vast masses, — it slowly 
rolls off to the eastward. Aye ! there he stands — there 
stands old Holyoke, with his cragged coronal of rocks, 
a gigantic Titan, bidding defiance to time and tempest. 
Gallop — gallop ! we are within two hundred feet of the 
summit. This precipice, its dark sides frowning and 
grim, the velvet moss, and little clustres of scarlet and 
yellow flowers peeping from its crevices, where the 
ripling brooklet scatters its mimig showers over them, 
wreathed fantastically with vines and gnarled branches 
from its clefts, — we must climb on foot. Rest a mo- 
ment. How perfectly still the dense forest extends 
arounds us. Nought breaks the silence, save the 
querulous cry of the cat-bird, as it hops from branch 



158 MOUNT HOLYOKE. 

to branch, — the mimic bark of the squirrel, or the dis- 
tant hollow tap of the woodpecker. Now, a little 
more climbing — take care of those loose stones — a lew 
steps additional ascent — give me your hand — spring! 
— here we are on the rocky platform of its summit. Is 
not the scene magnificent ? We stand in the centre of 
an amphitheatre tAvo hundred miles in diameter. See ! 
at the base of the mountain curls, like a huge serpent, 
the Connecticut, its sinuosities cutting the smooth 
plains with all sorts of grotesque figures, — now mak- 
ing a circuit around a peninsula of miles, across whose 
neck a child might throw a stone, — here stretching 
straight as an arrow for a like distance, — and there 
again returning like a hare upon its course. See the 
verdant valleys extending around us, rich with the 
labour of good old New England's sons, and far in the 
distance — the blue smoky distance — rising in majesty, 
God's land-marks, the mountains. See the beautiful 
plains, the prairies beneath us, one great carpet of 
cultivation, — the fields of grain, the yellow wheat, the 
verdant maize, the flocks, the herds, the meadow, the 
woodland, forming beautiful and defined figures in its 
texture, while the viljages in glistening whiteness, are 
scattered, like patches of snow, in every part of the 
landscape ; and hark ! in that indistinct and mellow 
music we hear the bell slowly tolling from yonder 
slender spire. Oh ! for a Ruysdael, or a Rubens, to 
do justice to the picture. 



MOUNT HOLYOKE. 159 

Surely God did not intend that we should sweat and 
pant in cities when he places such scenes before us. 
How like the fierce giants of old the lofty mountains 
encircle it, as a land of enchantment. See ! see ! the 
clouds, as they scud along in the heavens, how they 
throw their broad shadows, chasing each other on the 
plains below. Imagine them squadrons, charging in 
desperate and bloody battle. But no — widows and 
'orphans' tears follow not their encounters — rather the 
smiles of the honest, hard-handed yeoman, as he fore- 
sees his wains groaning with the anticipated harvests 
— his swellincr stacks — his crowded granaries. Here, 
for the present, let us recline on the broad and moss- 
covered rocks, while with the untutored Indian, its 
rightful owner, in silent admiration, we worship the 
Great Spirit, whose finger moves not, save in beauty, 
in harmony and majesty. 



WHITE MOUNTAINS. 

"Knock! knock! knock!" W-e-1-1. "Thump! 
thump ! thump !" Who's there ? What do you want ? 
*< Passengers for the White Mountains, Sir, time to get 
up, — stage ready.'' Is it possible? three o'clock al-' 
ready 1 W-e-1-1, I'll get up. Call the gentleman 
in the next room. Well, my friend, how are you, af- 
ter your trip of yesterday to Mount Holyoke ? — a little 
stiff in the knees and ancles, eh ! — but come, the stage 
is at the door. Waiter, hold the light. How forlorn 
look the heavy muddy vehicle, and half-waked horses 
by the dim light of the stage lamps. That's right, my 
good fellow ; throw those carpet-bags in the inside. 
Shut the door. All ready. Driver, go ahead! 
"Aye, aye, sir." " Hey !— Tchk ! tchk !— Crack ! 
crack ! crack ! off we go. The steady clatter of the 
horses' hoofs, the jingling of the harness, the occasion- 
al roll, as we pass over the boards of some bridge, and 
the intejectional whistle of the driver as he encourages 
them, are the only things that break the silence for the 
next hour. The morning light begins to dawn. Whom 
have we here ? Only two fellow travellers. An hon- 
est, clean-looking countryman, snugly fixed in one 
corner, with his night-cap pulled over his eyes, and his 



WHITE MOUNTAINS. 161 

mouth wide open, as if admiring the melody that his nose 
in bugle strain is enacting just above it ; and opposite to 
him a gross fat man, of rubicund visage, his eyes en- 
sconced in goggles. See ! he nods — and nods — and 
nods, and now his head bobs forward into his neigh- 
bour's lap. How foolishly he looks, as he awakes to 
consciousness. It is broad day-light. Let us get up 
with the driver on the outside, and enjoy our cigars and 
the scenery together. 

Here we go, through the Connecticut River Valley, 
famous for its scenery and its legends — the region of 
bright eyes and strong arms — the land of quiltings and 
huskings — of house-raisings and militia trainings, and 
the home of savory roast pigs and stuffed turkeys, of 
fat geese, of apple sauce, and pumpkin pies ; the Ultima 
Thule to the Yankee's imagination. Now we are at 
Deeriield. While they are about our breakfast, we will 
run across the road, and see the old Williams Mansion. 
A hundred years since, it was surrounded by In- 
dians, and its occupant, the clergyman, with his family, 
carried off captives to Canada. Here is the very hole 
cut in the front door by their tomahawks, and here the 
hacks of the hatchets. Through this hole they ran 
their rifles, and fired into the house, killing a man con- 
fined to his bed by sickness, and here is the ball lodg- 
ing to this day in the side of the wall — and this occurred 
one hundred years ago! Say you, that the people that 
treasure up these legends, and retain these memorials 
H 



162 WHITE MOUNTAINS, 

untouched, have no poetry in their souls ? But there 
goes the stageman's horn ! Our breakfast finished, 
we resume our places at the side of the good-natured 
driver, and on we roll. We pass Brattleboro', snugly- 
ensconced in its mountain eyrie, and Hanover, with its 
broad parade, its flourishing colleges, and its inhabi- 
tants that never die, — save from old age. 

With teams of six and eight horses, we speed over 
hill, over dale, over mountain, over valley, ascending 
and descending the mountains in full run ; our gallant 
horses almost with human instinct, guiding them- 
selves. Snorting leaders, swerve not aside in your . 
career — linch-pins, do your duty — traces and breech- 
ing, hold on toughly, or " happy men be our dole." 
Hah ! Wild Amonoosac, we greet thy indeed wild 
roar. — How it sweeps the fallen timber in its boiling 
eddies ! The huge logs slide dancing onwards with 
the velocity of the canoes of the Indian ; or caught 
by envious projection, or uplifting rock, form dams and 
cascades, till the increasing and cumbrous masses, 
gathering momentum, plunge forward, sweeping all be- 
fore them, — and — but whist ! Step into the shade of 
this tree — look into the dark pool beneath those gnarl- 
ed roots — how beautifully the gold and purple colours 
glitter — how motionlessly still is the head — how slight 
and tremulous the movement of that fin — the wavy 
motion of the tail. A two pounder, as I am a Chris- 
tian ! Whist ! whist ! See that dragon-fly, gently 



WHITE MOUNTAINS. 163 

sailing o'er the surface — he rests a moment on it. 
Watch! the head slowly turns — the fins move deci- 
dedly — ay — now — one rapid whirl of the tail — an 
electric leap to the surface — Poor fly, thy history is 
written ; and well for thee, thou greedy trout, that no 
barbed hook suspends thee in mid air — struggling 
in beauty, though in death, the prize of exulting 
angler. And thou, too, art there, savage Mount Fran- 
conia, with thy fantastic and human outline ! Old 
Man of the Mountain ! — with what grim stoicism ihou 
lookest down upon the busy miners, as with picks and 
powder-blast they rive the sullen mineral from thy vi- 
tals. Ay ! watch thou by the lurid glare the sweat- 
ing, half-naked forgemen, as they feed with thy forests 
the roaring furnaces. Watch the molten ore, slowly 
running in glittering streams, with fiery showers of 
scintillations into the dark earth- troughs below ; while 
with ceaseless din, the ponderous trip-hammers, and 
clanking machinery, break the till now Sabbath still- 
ness of thy dwelling place. But fare thee well, thou 
imperturbable old man ; fare thee well, for now, we 
enter the dense continuous forest, through which the 
busy hand of man has with unwearied industry cut the 
avenue. How deliciously the aroma of the gigantic 
pines, mingles with the pure elastic air of the moun- 
tains. See the thick undergrowth ; the dogwood with 
its snowy blossoms — the scarlet sumac — the waving 
green briar, profuse with delicate roses, — the crimson 



164 WHITE MOUNTAINS. 

raspberry, loaded with its fruit — the yellow sensitive 
plant — the dancing blue-bell ; and, rising through the 
entangled mass of verdure and beauty, see the luxuri- 
ant wild grape, and clinging ivy, joyously climbing the 
patriarchs of the forest, encircling their trunks, and 
hanging their branches in graceful festoons and umbra- 
geous bowers. — No human foot, save with the aid of 
pioneer, can penetrate its matted wildness — nought 
save those huge patriarchs rising above it as they grow 
old and die, and fall with crashing uproar, as into 
flowery sepulchre, intrude upon its soUtude. Then, 
indeed, in heavy booming plunge and rush, they seem 
to wildly sing, like their painted children, their death 
song. But hark ! — whence that wild and dissonant 
shriek, that rings upon the ear? Ah — yonder, erect 
and motionless, he sits upon the towering oak with 
haughty eye and talons of iron, screaming his call 
of warning to his partner, slowly circling in grace- 
ful curves high, high in the blue ether above him. 
Ay ! proud bird, our nation's emblem, would that 
thy wild scream could warn from us, the accursed 
spirit of Mammon, which, spreading like an incubus, 
blights and destroys with its mildew the virtues and 
energies of her sons. 

But see, where, as the dense forest stretches onward, 
the casual spark dropped by the hand of the woodman, 
spreading into flame, and gathering in mighty volumes 
of fire, has swept onwards in its roaring, crackling, de- 



WHITE MOUNTAINS. 165 

stroying progress, leaving nought behind it, save these 
grim and blackened skeletons, and dead plains of ashes. 
See what darkness and desolation, and apparent anni- 
hilation, extend around you — but yet, silently and qui- 
etly, ere long, shall the germ of life which can never 
die, rise from these ashes, and verdure and beauty 
reign again, as was their wont. Even so the solitary 
mourner, when death strikes down at his side his dear- 
est ones, stands helplessly encircled by solitude and 
desolation ; but soon all-pervading benevolence causes 
the green germ of the soul to rise from the ashes, and 
his heart again expands with tenderness and sympathy. 

The scene of desolation is passed ! and now, lest the 
Lord of fire should reign uncontrolled, lo ! where the 
spirit of the whirlwind has swept in his wild tornado. 
Lo ! far as your vision can command the circle — where, 
rushing from the mountain gorges his chariots have 
whirled along in their fierce career of destruction. In 
mid height, the lofty trees are snapped like pipe- 
stems, and prone like the field of grain laid by the 
hand of the reaper, huge trunks with the moss of 
centuries, — not here and there one solitary, — but for 
miles, the whole vast forest — prostrate, never again to 
rise. 

But speed ! speed ! the mountain passes are before 
us ! See — see their huge walls tower in chaotic wild- 
ness above us. Rocks on rocks — ledge on ledge-— 



166 WHITE :'! U N T A I N S . 

cliff on clifF— plunged upon each other in frantic dis- 
order. See — 

" See the giant snouted crags, ho ! ho ! 
How they snort, how they blow." 

See the huge rock ramparts shooting their wild 
peaks and jagged pinnacles upwards, piercing the very- 
sky above us ! their frowning and gashed sides trick- 
ling and discoloured with the corroding minerals in 
their bowels ; the stunted pines and evergreens cling- 
ing like dwarf shrubs in their crevices. Take heed ! 
beware you fall not. See the huge slides — they have 
swept whole torrents of rocks, of earth, in promiscuous 
destruction, from their summits, upon the valley below 
— the rivers filled, and turned from their courses, in 
their path, — the very forest itself — the loftiest trees 
torn up, their branches, their trunks, their upturned 
roots ground and intermixed with rock and earth, and 
splintered timber, swept on in wild, inextricable con- 
fusion — and here ! where starting from their slumbers, 
the devoted famil)" rushed naked and horror-stricken to 
meet it in mid career. Ay ! hold on by the sides of the 
steep precipice — cling to the ledge as the wild wind 
rushes by in furious gust — a slip were your passport to 
eternity. Look down ! How awful the precipice, thou- 
sands of feet below you — how the blood curdles and rush- 
es back upon the heart, as you imagine the fatal plunge. 
Well might the Puritans of old, deem these ghastly de- 
serts the abode and haunts of the evil one. 



WHITE MOUNTAINS. 167 

But, on — on — how toilsome the ascent. — That was a 
fearful blast ; hold u-htly the wild roots in thy grasp as it 
passes. Long since have we passed the region of vege- 
tation: the dry and arid moss clinging to rock and stone, 
is alone around us. Ay ! drink of that spring — but 
beware its icy coldness — nor winter, nor summer, alters 
its temperature. Behold, in the clefts and gorges be- 
low, the never-melting snow-wreaths. The flaming 
suns of summer pass over, and leave them undiminish- 
ed. Courage ! we climb, we climb. The witches of 
the Brocken ne'er had such wild chaos for their orgies. 
Courage, my friend ! We ascend — we ascend — we 
reach the top — now panting — breathless — exhausted, 
we throw ourselves upon the extreme summit. 

Gather your faculties — press hard your throbbing 
heart. Catch a vie w of the scene of grandeur around you, 
before the wild clouds, like dense volumes of steam, 
enclose us in their embrace, shutting it from our vision ; 
— mountains — mountains— rolling off as far as eye can 
reach in untiring vastness — a huge sea of mountains held 
motionless in mid career. How sublime! how grand! 
what awful solitude ! what chilling, stern, inexorable 
silence ! It seems as if an expectant world were await- 
ing in palpitating stillness the visible advent of the 
Almighty- — mountain and valley in expectant awe. 
Oh ! man — strutting in thy little sphere, thinkest thou 
that adoration is confined alone to thy cushioned seats 



168 "WHITE MOUNTAINS. 

• — thy aisles of marble ; that for devotion, the Almighty- 
looks to nought but thee 7 Why, look thou there ! — 
beneath — around — millions — millions — millions of acres 
teeming with life, yet hushed in silence to thy ear — 
each grain the integer and composite of a world — the 
minutest portion, a study — a wonder in itself — ^lie be- 
fore thee in awful adoration of their Almighty Foun- 
der. Well did the Seers of old go into the mountains 
to worship. Oh ! my brother-man — thou that dost toil, 
and groan, and labour, in continual conflict with what 
appears to thee unrelenting fate — thou to whom the 
brow-sweat appears to bring nought but the bitter 
bread, and contumely, and shame ; — thou on whom 
the Sysiphean rock of misfortune seems remorselessly" 
to recoil — ascend thou hither. Here, on this moun- 
tain-peak, nor King, nor Emperor are thy superior. 
Here, thou art a man. Stand thou here ; and while 
with thy faculties thou canst command, in instant com- 
prehension, the scene sublime before thee, elevate 
thee in thy self-respect, and calmly, bravely throw thy- 
self into the all- sheltering arms of Him, who watches 
with like benevolence and protection, the young bird 
in its grassy nest, and the majestic spheres, chiming 
eternal music in their circling courses ! 



BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT. 

Here we are at Newport— what a little gem of an 
island — rising like emerald on sapphire, from the sur- 
rounding ocean. Neither at Potter's nor at Whit- 
field's, will we take our abode. We will walk up to 
the Mall. Ay, here, with its green blinds and scru- 
pulously clean piazza, is old Mrs. E 's, and they 

are at tea already. Come, take your seat at table. 

With what serene dignity and kindness the old 
lady, in her nice plaited cap, her spotless kerchief, 
and russet poplin dress, her pin ball, with its silver 
chain, hanging at her waist — presides at the board — 
crowded with every imaginable homely delicacy — 
from the preserved peach and crullers made by her- 
self, to the green candied limes brought home by her 
grandson from his last West India voyage. See the 
antique furniture, with its elaborate carving, the ma- 
hogany-framed looking-glasses ; and, in the corner, on 
the round stand, the large Bible, carefully covered with 
baize, surmounted with the silver spectacles. No 
place this for swearing, duel-fighting, be-whiskered 
heroes ; but just the thing for quiet, sober folk, like 
you and me. What sayest thou, Scipio, thou ebon 
angel, — that the ebb sets at five i' the morning, 



170 BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT. 

and that old Davy Swan, the fisherman, will be ready 
for us at the Long Wharf at that hour ? Well, get 
yourself ready and go along with us. Call us in sea- 
son. Ay, that Avill do — the roll of those eyes — the 
display of that ivory, to say nothing of the scratch of 
that head, and the sudden displacement of that leg, 
sufficiently evince thy delight. 

So, so, — here we are, punctual to the hour. Ay, 
yonder he is in his broad strong fishing-boat ; yonder 
is old Davy Swan, as he was twenty years ago ; the 
same tall, gaunt figure, the same stoop in the shoul- 
ders, bronzed visage, and twinkling grey eyes ; the 
same wrinkles at the side of his mouth, though deeper ; 
the same long, lank hair, but now the sable silvered ; 
the same — the same that he was in the days of my 
boyhood. He sees us. Now he stretches up to the 
wharf. Jump in — jump in. Be careful, thou son of 
Ethiopia, or thy basket will be overboard — sad disap- 
pointment to our sea-whet appetites some few brief 
hours hence. All in. We slide gently from the 
wharf. The light air in the inner harbour here barely 
gives us headway. Look down into the deep, still 
water — clear as crystal ; see the long sea-weed wave 
below ; see the lithe eels, coursing and whipping 
their paths through its entangled beds ; and see our 
boat, with its green and yellow sides — its long flaunt- 
ing pennant — its symmetrical white sails, suspended, 
as if in mid-air, on its transparent surface. 



BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT. 171 

How Still and tranquil lies the quiet town, as the 
sun gilds its white steeples ; and how comfortable 
look the old family mansions rising from the green 
trees. How beautifully the yellow sun casts his sha- 
dows on the undulating surface of the island-, green 
and verdant — the flocks of sheep, and browsing cattle, 
grouped here and there upon its smooth pastures. 
And see, how yonder alike he gilds the land of the 
brave, the chivalrous, the unfortunate Miantonimoh. 
We float past Fort Wolcott. Its grass-grown ram- 
parts, surmounted with dark ordnance, and its fields 
cheerful with white-washed cottages and magazines. 

Ay ! now it breezes a little — now we gather head- 
way — and now we pass the cutter. See her long, 
taper, raking masts, her taut stays and shrouds ; and 
hear, as the stripes and stars are run up to her gaff, the 
short roll of the drum, the " beat to quarters." Hah ! 
Davy, — old fellow, dost remember that note last war 1 
How many times, at midnight, we've sprang from 
our beds as that short, quick " rub-a-dub " warn- 
ed us of the approach of the blockading frigates, as 
they neared the town. But, no, no, — forgive me, old 
tar, — I recollect, indeed, thou then wast captain of thy 
gun, on board the dashing Essex. Ay ! well now do I 
remember, brave old sailor, thy conduct in her last des- 
perate battle. Eighteen men hadst thou killed at thy 
single gun. I think I see thee now, as grimed with 
powder, spattered with blood, thou didst advancej 



172 BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT. 

through fire and smoke, and approach thy saturnine 
commander on the quarter-deck. I hear thy brief, 
business-like request, " A fresh crew for- Number 
Three, Second Division. All my men are killed ! " 
And the short, stern response, " Where is your offi- 
cer?" "Dead, — swept overboard by cannon shot." 
And well can I see the momentary play of anguish 
round his mouth, as, resuming his hurried walk, he 
gloomily replies, " I have no more men — you must 
fight your gun yourself ! " Ay — and as thy proud 
ship a helpless target lay, for twice superior force, I 
hear poor Ripley, thy brave comrade, severed almost 
in twain by cannon shot, crying, with short farewell-^ 
" Messmates, I am no longer of use to myself or coun- 
try," as he throws himself, his life-blood gushing, over- 
board. 

But now the wind freshens — the smooth surface 
darkens — the sails belly out in tension, and the white 
ripples gather under our bows. We round the point : 
Fort Adams, we pass thy massive walls, thy grim 
*' forty-two's " glaring like wild beasts, chained, ready 
to leap upon us from their casements. Ay — now 
we run outside — now it freshens — now it breezes — 
she begins to dance like a feather. There it comes 
stronger ! see the white caps ! There she goes — 
scuppers under — swash — swash — swash — we jump 
from wave to wave, as we run parallel with the shore, 
our pennant streaming proudly behind us. Here it 



BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT. 173 

and sleiiJy — there she takes it — gun- 
wale imcler — hifl", old fellow ! lufi'iip. Davy ! or you'll 
give us all wet jackets. Ay! that will do — she's in the 
wind's eve. How the waves tumble in upon the land 
— see the Spouting Tvock — see the cohniin of white 
foam thrown up, as repulsed, the wiives roll out again 
from the rocky cavern. We near ihe Dumplings — 
arid, round to ! round to ! here are the lobster-pots — 
haul in — tumble them in the bottom of the boat — ay — 
there's bait enough. Now we lay our course across 
to Beaver Light — we slide, we dash along — springing 
from wave to wave — da^ih — dash — no barnacles on 
her bottom at this rate. Davy. Ay. here we are — a 
quick run — a good quick run. Anchor her just out- 
side the surf — ay, that will do — give her a good swing 
— let her ride free — slie rolls like a barrel on these 
long waves. Look to your footing, boys — steady — 
steady. Now, then, for it. Davy, you and Scip will 
will have as much as you can do to bait for us — all 
ready. Here goes then — a good long throw— that's it 
— my sinker is just inside the surf. What ! — already ! 
I've got him — pull in, pull in — see, my line vibrates 
like a fiddle-string ! — pull away — here he is — Tmi'aug 
— three-pounder. Lie you there — ay, slap away, 
beauty, you have done for ever with your native ele- 
ment. There, again — off with him. Again — again-— 
again. This is fun to us, but death to you, ye disci- 
ples of St. Anthony ! Give me a good large bait this 



174 BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT. 

time, Scipio — that will do — now, whis-whis-whis-te 
— that's a clean, long throw. By Jupiter ! you have 
got a bite with a vengeance. Careful — give him more 
line — let it run — play him — ease — ease the line around 
the thole-pin ; he'll take all the skin of your fingers 
else. Pull away gently — there he runs. Careful, or 
you lose him — play him a little — he begins to tire — 
steady, steady — draw away — now he shoots wildly this 
way — look out ! there he goes under the boat ; here he is 
again. Steady — quick, Davy, the net ; — I've got it un- 
der him — now then, in with him. Bass ! twenty 
pounds, by all the steel-yards in the old Brick Market ! 
Ay, there they have got hold of me ; a pull like a young 
shark ; let it run — the whole line is out — quick, quick 
— take a turn round the thole-pin — snap ! There, Davy ! 
there goes your best line, sinker, hooks and all. Give 
me the other line. Ah, ha ! — again — again — again. 

This is sport. One — two — three nine Bass, and 

thirty Tautaug. So — the tide won't serve here any 
longer ; we will stretch across to Brenton's Reef, on 
the other side. Up anchor, hoist away the jib. Here 
we go, again coursing o'er the blue water. How the 
wind lulls. Whew — whew — whew — blow wind, 
blow ! Put her a little more before it ; that will do. 
Hallo, you, Scipio ! wake up — wake up. Here we 
are, close on the reef — give her plenty of cable. Let 
her just swing clear, to lay our sinkers on the rocks. 
That will do. How the surges swell, and roar, and, 



BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT. 175 

recoiling, rush again boiling on the rocks. So — so, 
they don't bite well here to-day. The tide comes in 
too strong flood ; well, we can't complain, we have 
had good sport even as it is. Come, Africa, bear a 
hand ; let's see what you have got in that big basket. 
Come, turn out, turn out. Ham, chicken, smoked 
salmon, bread and butter ; and in that black bottle ? — 
ay, good old brown stout ? Pass them along — pass 
them along, and wo be unto thee, old fellow, if thy 
commissariat falls short. 



BRENTON'S REEF. 



With what sullen and continuous roar the ocean 
waves heave in upon this inhospitable reef. See, as 
they recede, how the long slimy rock- weed hangs 
dripping, and how deeply the returning surge buries 
it again. Oh, never shall I forget the scene upon this 
horrid reef, witnessed in my boyhood. A dark por- 
tentous day in autumn, was followed in the evening 
by a terrific storm. Low, muttering thunder, which 
had been growling in the distant horizon, as the night 
set in, grew louder. The perfect stillness which had 
obtained, as if in preparation, was broken by long 
moaning sighs ; the lighlning became quick and in- 
cessant, and ere long, the tempest, like an unchained 
demon, came bounding in from Ocean. The light- 
ning intensely vivid, accompanied by crashing and 
terrific thunder, illuminated the surrounding coast with 
glittering splendour ; the islands, the rocks, and yon 
beacon tower, now exposed to brightness, surpassing 
noon-day, and now plunged into blackest darkness. 
The ocean appeared a sea of molten fire. Rain — hail 
— dashed hissing by, and mid the screaming of the 
blast, and the torrents rushing from the skies, the huge 



E RENTON S REEF. 177 

waves plunged, and roared, and lashed in milky white- 
ness, broke mast high upon these horrid rocks. While 
the fishermen in their cottages were thanking their 
stars that they were snug and safe on shore, we heard 
in the temporary lulls of the howling storm, signa 
gims of distress. The neighbouring inhabitants, my- 
self among ttie number, were soon upon that point, 
and by the glittering flashes within musket shot of the 
shore, discerned a Spanish ship on the very ridge of 
the frightful reef — the stumps of her masts alone re- 
maining — the surf running and breaking in a continual 
deluge over her, while in her fore shrouds were con- 
gregated the unhappy crew. She was so near to us, 
that we could almost see the expression of agony in 
their countenances, as, with extended hands they 
piteously shrieked for help. Their situation was hope- 
less. We could do nothing for them. No whale-boat 
could have lived for a moment, the surf rolled in with 
such resistless violence. We could only listen in 
silent horror. We heard the very grinding of her 
timbers, as shock on shock hastened her dissolution ; 
and amid the fury of the storm, and their frantic cries 
for aid, never shall I forget, in the momentary lulls, 
the sickening continuous wail of a young boy lashed 
in the mid-rigging, — his supplicating exclamation, " Ai 
Jesus ! — Ai Jesus ! " Often, years after, in my 
dreams, did I hear those plaintive cries, and see that 
young boy's face turned imploringly to Heaven, while 
12 



178 brenton's reef. 

that " Ai Jesus ! — Ai Jesus ! " rang wildly in my ears. 
But a short time could human fabric sustain the cease- 
less plunge of the foaming elements. By the light- 
ning flashes, we could see the number of the sufferers 
lessen, as relaxing their hold, they dropped off exhaust- 
ed one by one — swept into the rocky caverns below ; 
until, a longer interval of darkness — a more intense 
flash of lightning — and all had disappeared. Nought 
was left but the white foam as it rushed tumultuously 
boiling and coursing over the long reef before us. It 
was so brief — so hurried — the appearance of our fel- 
low-creatures in their agony, and their disappearance 
so sudden, that it seemed a feverish dream. But the 
dead, mutilated bodies — ceroons of indigo and tobacco 
— and broken planks, swept along the shore on the 
following morning, convinced us of its sad reality. 

The corse of the young boy, ungashed by the rag- 
ged rocks, I found, and caused it to be buried apart 
from the rest in the church-yard, for it appeared, as if 
there was in his childish helplessness, a claim upon 
me for protection. That expression of agony 1 ne'er 
heard since — save once : and that — but Davy, we 
have had all the sport we are like to have to-day — get 
up the anchor, and we will fan along up to the harbour. 
So — let her jibe — now put her before it — ay — that will 
do. — As I was saying. Shortly after the close of the last 
war, buoyant with youth and hope, I made, what was 
then not so common as now, the tour of Europe — lin- 



BRENTON S REEF. 179 

gering long in Old Spain, fascinated with the romantic 
character of the countrymen of Cervantes — of the 
gallant Moors — of the Alhambra and the Cid. It 
chanced one evening, strolling about the streets of 
Madrid in pursuance of adventure, that, passing 
through one of the most unfrequented squares, I was 
attracted by lights shining through the long Gothic 
windows of a large chapel or cathedral. I ap- 
proached, and entering with some curiosity found it 
entirely silent. No living soul was present within its 
walls. The lofty chancel and altars were shrouded in 
mourning. By the wax candles on the altars, I could 
see the fretted arches — the shrines and monuments 
along the walls — and the family banners wreathed in 
gloomy festoons above them. I wandered about, alone 
and uninterrupted. Nought moved, save the old 
blood-stained flags, as they fitfully waived to and fro 
in the wind. I gazed around me in admiration on the 
rich shrines and their appropriate pictures. Here, 
with her offerings of flowers, the wax candles, burn- 
ing bright and clear, was the Madonna, her lovely 
conntenance beaming with celestial sweetness, as she 
looked down upon the infant Saviour nestling in her 
arms — the Baptist standing at her knee, pressing the 
plump little foot to his lips — and there, John in the 
island of Patmos — his emaciated limbs staring from 
their scanty covering of sackcloth — and his gaunt fea- 
tures glowing with inspiration, as from among the 



180 brenton's reef. 

cloud of scattered grey hair, and venerable beard, with 
upturned face, he received from the flame-encircled 
trumpet above him, the Holy Revelation. 

Here, armed cap-a-pied, the chivalrous Knights of 
the Temple consigned their slain brother to his rocky 
sepulchre, as with grim, stern, averted countenances 
they watched the fierce conflict and assault of the dar- 
ing Infidel upon their Holy City — and there, the cross 
of Constantine richly emblazoned on its altar, was the 
Crucifixion, the Saviour extended on the cross — the 
thieves on each side of him — the head just bowed — 
and the awful "' It is finished! ^^ announced to the- 
nations in frightful phenomena. The sun turned to 
blood, throwing a lurid and unnatural glare on the as- 
sembled multitude — the war-horses, riderless, rearing 
and plunging with distended nostrils — rolling in con- 
vulsions the solid mountains; — the aff'righted soldiery, 
horror-stricken, wildly lifting their hands to ward off 
the toppling crag, which, torn from its foundation by 
the earthquake, was in another instant to grind them to 
powder — while the Roman centurion, with curling lip, 
holding tighter in his grasp the crimson flag, the 
*< S. P. Q. 2?." shaking fiercely in the wild wind, 
seemed to deride the coward Jew, even in that dread 
moment, with his abject slavery — and here was San Se- 
bastian, his eyes streaming with mart^T tears — and the 
tinkling of a small bell struck upon my ear : — boys clad 



BREN ton's reef. 181 

in scarlet, swung th'jir censers to and fro, and the in- 
cense floated high above them to the vaulted arches. 
A train of monks, in purple robes embroidered with 
white crosses, appeared in procession, slowly advanc- 
ing on the tesselated pavement, bearing on tressels, co- 
vered with dark pall, a corse, by the muffled outline, 
of manly stature. Two female figures ; grave servi- 
tors, with deep reverence supporting them, followed 
close the dead. The deep thunder tones of the huge 
organ, swept upward as they entered, wild, grand, and 
terrible, as if touched by no earthly hand : scarce au- 
dible sounds floating from the smallest pipes v/ould 
catch the ear — then bursts, like the roaring whirlwind, 
pouring in the whole mass of trumpets, rolling, and 
rising, and falling, — the most exquisite symphonies 
floating in the intervals, until fainter, fainter, the heart 
sickened in eflforts to catch its tones. Dead silence 
followed : — the corse was deposited in the chancel — 
the dark black pall was slowly withdrawn, and the 
noble figure of a cavalier in the bloom of manhood, 
pallid in death, lay exposed before us. Clad in sable 
velvet, his rapier rested on his extended body, the jew- 
elled cross-hilt reverently enclosed in his clasped 
hands, as they met upon his broad chest, while the 
luxuriant raven hair, parted on the high forehead, the 
dark arched eye -brow, and the glossy moustache curl- 
ing on the lip, added deeper pallor, to what appeared 
deep, deep sleep. The servitors withdrew, and the 



182 BREN ton's reef. 

mother and the daughter advanced to the last sight of 
him that was so generous, so kind, so beautiful — their 
all. The thick veil, thrown hastily aside, discovered 
the furrowed, time-worn, grief- worn features of the mo- 
ther, convulsively writhe and work, as, sinking at its 
head, her lips pressed in uncontrollable agony the damp 
cold white forehead. The sister, clad in robes of 
purest whiteness, her golden ringlets dishevelled and 
floating around her, and in their rich luxuriance, almost 
hiding her graceful form, bent o'er him ; and as her 
gaze met not the answering smile of kindness and pro- 
tection, to which from infancy it was wont, but the 
stern, calm, sharpened features, in their icy stillness ; 
then, as with frantic sobs, her exquisitely feminine, 
almost childish countenance, streaming with tears, was 
lifted upwards, and her hands wringing with anguish, 
— then uttered in deep convulsive bitterness, that '' Ai 
Jesus ! '' in smothered tones, again struck upon my 
startled ear. Long silence followed, unbroken save by 
sobs, as, sunk by its side, they embraced the still, un- 
conscious ashes. Slowly the deep grave voices of the 
monks rose in solemn tones, and as their mournful 
chant sank into deep bass, at intervals was it taken up 
by a single female voice in the choir, which, high 
above the organ tones, with surpassing sweetness, as- 
cended higher, higher, until every nook in the lofty 
arches above, appeared filled and overflowing with the 
rich melody : then, descending lower — lower — lower — 



183 

the imagination wildly sought it in the passing wind. 
The monks drew near with uplifted and extended 
hands, muttering in low tones their benediction ; then 
crossing themselves, encircling the corse on bended 
knees, with eyes lifted up to heaven, uttered, in loud 
voices — 

" Ora pro illo — mater miserecordiae," 

" Salvator Hominum — Ora pro illo " 

" Ora pro illo" again rose like a startled spirit from 
the choir, ii? that single female voice, rising with an 
intensity that made the old walls re-echo the petition — 
and then, descending like the fluttering of a wounded 
bird, it became less — less — and all was still. 

After a brief interval, leaning in apparent stupor 
upon the arms of the affectionate retainers, the ladies 
slowly withdrawing, passed again the chancel's en- 
trance, and the sacred procession raising the body with 
melancholy chant, bore it to the lower part of the 
chapel. I heard the clank of iron, as the rusty portal 
of the family sepulchre reluctant turned upon its 
hinges ; — and then rested from its human journey, that 
corse forever. I made inquiries, but could learn nought 
about the actors in the scene, other than that they were 
strangers, — a noble family from the Havana ; — that the 
father — invalid — had died in crossing the sea — and the 
usual story of Spanish love, and jealousy, and revenge, 
had consigned the son and brother, in the bloom of his 



184 brenton's reef. 

days, by duel, to his grave ; and subsequently, that the 
mother and sister had closed the history of the family, 
dying-, broken-hearted, in the convent to which they 
had retired. But, here we are, at the wharf. Our 
rapid journey approaches now its termination. A few 
short hours, and we shall again be merged in the cease- 
less din of the city ; the fair and tranquil face of nature 
change for the anxious countenances of our fellow- 
men ; the joyous carol of the birds, the soft forest 
breeze, and the sea-beach ripple, for pave^ streets and 
our daily round of duty and of labour. We have 
found " a world beyond Verona's walls." Perhaps at 
future time we may again travel it together. Till 
then, thanking you for your "right good and jollie " 
company. Farewell ! 



OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 

BROADWAY NEAR THE BOWLING-GREEN. 

(Ground covered with ice — Furious storm of snow 
and sleet. Two gentlemen becloaked and benmffled, 
hurrying in different directions, come in full contact, 
and mutually recoiling hasten to make apology.) 

"My dear Sir — a thousand pardons." — "No, indeed 
Sir, 'twas I — I was the offending party.'' — " No, I as- 
sure you — I" — eh ! — is it? — it is ! — my old friend the 
reader. — Why, my dear friend — you came upon me as 
if you had been discharged from a Catapult — a Paix- 
han shot was nothing to you 1 But where so fast in 
the fury of the storm — Not to Union Square ! Hea- 
vens ! Man, you will never reach there living — Why» 
in this horrid cold the spirits of Nova-Zembla and 
Mont-Blanc are dancing in ecstacy about the fountains 
in the Park, and the very cabs are frozen on their 
axles ! Never think of it. Come — come with me to 
my rooms hard by in State-street, and on the word of a 
bachelor and a gentleman, I'll promise to make you 
comfortable. Come, take my arm — Whew ! how this 
North-Wester sweeps around the Battery. Here we 
are — This is the house — A real aristocratic old man- 
sion ; is it not ? — Enter, my dear friend — Run up the 



186 OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 

Stairs — Holloa I ho ! Scip ! — Scipio — Africanus — An- 
gel of Darkness — come forth — come forth — Ay ! here 
you are. And you, too, shaggy old Neptune, your eyes 
sparkling with delight, and your long tongue hanging 
out over your white teeth — down — you old rascal — 
down sir — down. Now, is not this snug and comfort- 
able — a good roaring fire of hickory — none of your 
sullen red-hot anthracite for me. How the cold wind 
howls through the leafless trees upon the Battery, — 
Draw the curtains — Scip ! — Come, bear a hand, take 
the reader's hat and coat. Invest him with the wadded 
damask dressing gown that Tom sent home from 
Cairo — and the Turkish slippers — So — so — Now bring 
me mine ; place the well-stufl^ed easy chairs ; roll the 
round table up between us — bring in the lights. 
Now, reader, at your elbow, lo ! provision for your 
wants, material and mental — genuine old Farquhar 
and amber Golden Sherry — the Chateaux I got years 
since from Lynch ; and just opened is that box of gen- 
uine Regalias, only smell ! " Fabrica de Tabacos — 
Calle-a-Leon — En la Habana, No. 14." Is it not Ara. 
bia's perfume ! Ha ! give me your smoking Spaniard 
in his sombrero — e'er any a half-naked Bedouin of 
them all ; — or if indeed you do prefer it, there stands 
the Chiboque coiled up in the corner, and the metaphy- 
sical German's meer-schaum on the shelf. There 
are biscuit and anchovies, and olives, " old Cheshire," 
and other inviting things for your wants physical, and 



OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 187 

for your mental, lo ! uncut and damp from the publish- 
ers with the regular new book smell — the North Ame- 
rican — Old Blackwood — the Quarterly— the Edinburgh 
Review — Diedrich in his high back chair, the Sporting 
and other Maga's, and by a slight curve of thy verte- 
brae cervical, behold shining through yon glazed doors 
— glowing in gold, dross to the gold within ; the great 
master Bard of England — Cervantes — the chosen spi- 
rits of Italia and Gaul — Irving — w^orthy to be called 
"Washington — Bryant — sweet poet — and Halleck, gen- 
uine son of the voyagers in the Mayflower — and of 
literature much other goodly store. 

Now, Scip ! Lord of the Gold Coast — throw more 
wood upon the fire — Ay ! that will do — my good old 
faithful servant — that will do — now take that pepper 
and salt head of thine down to the kitchen hearth, 
there to retail thy legend and goblin story, or ensconce 
thee in the corner at thy will — Ah ! hah, old Neptune 
— snug in thy place upon the hearth rug — thy nose lying 
between thy outstretched paws as thou lookest intently 
in the fire — Bless thine honest heart! — thinking, I 
warrant me, of the beautiful child whom thou didst 
leap the Battery bridge to save. How bravely thou 
didst bear the little sufferer up on the fast rushing tide. 
The grateful father would have bought thee for thy 
weight in gold, as thou didst lie panting and half ex- 
hausted — but look not so wistfully my dog — a sack of 
diamonds could not purchase thee — no — never do we 



188 OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 

part till death steps in between us — and, by my faith, 
an' thou goest first, thou shalt have Christian burial. 

Now, dear reader, as thou reclinest comfortably 
in that big arm chair, thy feet in Ottoman slippers rest- 
ing on the fender, the blue smoke of thy cigar wreath- 
ing and curling around thy nose, as it ascends in placid 
clouds, and floats in misty wreaths above thy forehead — 
the glass of Chateaux, like a ruby resting upon its slen- 
der stem, light, quivering at thy elbow, and that open 
Blackwood upon thy knee — dost not — confess it — 
dost not feel more kind and charitable, than if, with 
benumbed fingers, thou wert following a frozen visage 
to thy distant mansion, in the great city's far purlieus — 
But, heaven guard us ! how savagely the tempest roars 
and howls around the chimney tops — Good angels 
preserve the poor mariner as he ascends the ice-clad 
rigging — lays out upon the slippery yard — and handles 
with frost-benumbed fingers the rigid canvass folds. 
Ah! I recollect it was in just such a night as this, a 
few years since — years that have rolled past into retro- 
gade eternity, that I was seated in that same arm chair, 
in the same bachelor independence, the fire burning just 
as brightly — the curtains as snugly drawn — my beautiful 
Flora looking down with the same sweetness from her 
frame above the mantel — my snow white Venus between 
the piers — the Gladiator stretching forth his arm in just 
such proud defiance from his pedestal — my Rembrandt 
— Claude — and Rubens flickering in softness in the fire- 



OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 189 

light — the Fornarina and St. Cecilia with vase of incense 
clasped, and upturned eyes of deep devotion, hanging in 
the same placid stillness between their silken tassels, 
and that jiEolian harp chiming just such wild and fitful 
strains — 'twas in just such a cold and inhospitable 
night, that, sitting with my legs extended upon the fen- 
der, I fell into a train of rather melancholy musings. 

The clock of St. Paul's slowly doled out the hour 
of midnight, and it seemed as if in the responsive, 
al-P-s-w-e-l-l of the watchman, rendered indistinct by 
the distance, the spirit of the hour was bewailing in 
plaintive tones the annihilation of its being. Time's 
brazen voice announced to unheeding thousands — •' Ye 
are rushing on eternity." I thought of my friends who 
had dropped off one by one, from around me, — youth 
and old age had alike sunk into the abyss of death — 
consumption — fever — palsy — had done their work ; 
the slight ripple of their exit had subsided, and all was 
still — as quiet and as beautiful as if they had never 

been. Among others, was poor Louisa S , in the 

prime of her youth, and the bloom of her beauty. 
But one short week — she was the pride of her friends, 
the idol of her husband ; — in another, the slow toll of 
the village bell announced her funeral. I shall never 
forget the scene. The soft yellow light of the declin- 
ing sun was streaming through the lofty elms which 
bordered the rustic grave-yard, painting their broad 
shadows on the velvet turf, as the procession of mourn- 



190 OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 

ers slowly wended their way among the mounds which 
covered the decaying remnants of mortality. Leaning 
upon a tomb-stone near the fresh dug grave, I had 
awaited its arrival. The bier was placed upon the 
ground — the cofhn-lid was thrown open, and friends 
looked for the last time upon the beautiful face, pallid 
and sharp in death. Her dark hair was parted upon 
her forehead, — but the dampness of death had deprived 
it of its lustre, and her soft eyes were closed in the 
slumber from whence they were never again to wake. I 
gazed long and painfully upon that face which appeared 
to repose only in serene and tranquil sleep, while the 
sobbing group reached forward to catch a last and 
parting glimpse of it in its loveliness. Oh ! I could not 
realize that the lovely form was still forever — that 
those lips were to remain closed, till the day, when 
amid whirlwinds and fire, they were to plead her 
cause before the Almighty. The coffin-lid was re- 
placed in silence — a suppressed whisper from the sex- 
ton — a harsh grating of the cords, and the gaping pit 
received its prey. While the clergyman in his deep 
and gloomy voice, was pronouncing the burial service 
of the dead, I looked around upon the uncovered 
group, — the mother and sister in unrestrained sobs, 
gave vent to their anguish, but the husband stood, his 
eyes fixed upon the grave in deep and silent agony. 
He moved not, but when the dead heavy clamp of earth 
and stones fell upon the coffin, which contained the 



OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 191 

remains of all that was dear to him, he gave a gasp, as 
if he had received a death wound — but that was all ; 
— the thick, convulsive breathing, and the swollen ar- 
teries upon his temples, showed that his was the bitter- 
ness of despair. Ere long, his wasted form beneath 
its own green hillock, rested at her side. 

I had sat some time, thinking " of all the miseries 
that this world is heir to," when gradually, my room 
became mazy, the tongs and fender were blended 
into one — the (ire slowly disappeared, and, to my 
utter horror and astonishment, I found myself swing- 
ing upon the weather-cock of Trinity Church steeple. 
— How I came there, I could not tell, but there I was. 
Far, far below me, I saw the long rows of lamps in 
Broadway and the adjoining streets, shining in lines 
of fire ; while here and there the glimmer of those 
upon the carriages, as they rolled along, resembled the 
ignis fatui in their ghostly revels upon the morass. 
The bay lay in the distance, glittering in the moon- 
light, a sea of silver, the islands and fortresses like 
huge monsters resting upon its bosom. All nature 
appeared at rest. An instant, and but an instant, I 
gazed in wild delight upon the scene ; but as the 
novelty vanished, the dreadful reality of my situation 
became apparent. I looked above me — the stars 
were trembling in the realms of space. I looked be- 
low, and shuddered at the distance — I tried to believe 
that I was in a dream — but that relief was denied me; 



192 OLD TRINITY STEEPLE, 

I grew wild with fear — I madly called for help— I 
screamed — I yelled in desperation. Alas ! my voice 
could not be heard one half the distance to earth. T 
called on angels — Heaven, to assist me, — but the cold 
wind alone answered, as it rushed around the steeple 
in its whistle of contempt. As my animal spirits were 
exhausted, I became more calm. I perceived that 
the slender iron upon which the weather-cock was 
fixed was slowly bending with the weight of my body, 
already benumbed with cold. Although it was mad- 
ness, I ventured a descent. Moving with extreme cau- 
tion, I clasped the spire in my arms — I slid down inch 
by inch. The cold sweat poured off my brow, and 
the blood curdling in my veins, rushed back in thick 
and suffocating throbs upon my heart. I grasped the 
steeple tighter in my agony — my nails were clenched 
in the wood — but in vain ; slip — slip — the steeple 
enlarged as I descended — my hold relaxed — the flat 
palms of my hands pressed the sides, as I slid down 
with frightful rapidity. Could I but catch the ledge 
below ! I succeeded — I clutched it in my bleeding 
fingers — for a moment I thought that I was safe, but I 
swung over the immense height in an instant ; the 
wind dashed me from side to side like a feather. I 
strove to touch the sides of the steeple with my knees 
— I could not reach it — my strength began to fail — I 
felt the muscles of my fingers growing weaker. The 
blackness of despair came over me. My fingers slid 



OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 193 

from the ledge — down — down I plunged — one dash 
upon the roof, and I was stretched motionless upon the 
pavement. 

A crowd collected around 'me. I heard them com- 
misserating my fate. They looked at me, and then at 
the steeple, as if measuring the distance from whence 
I had fallen ; but they offered me no assistance. They 
dispersed — I slowly raised myself on my feet — all was 
cold and still as the grave. Regions of ice — an im- 
mense transparent mirror, extended on every side 
around me. The cold, smooth plain, was only mea- 
sured by the horizon. I found myself on skates ; — I 
rushed along, outstripping the winds, — I ascended 
mountains of ice, — I descended like a meteor — Russia, 
with her frozen torrents, — Siberia with its eternal snows, 
were behind me, — miles and degrees were nothing — on 
I rushed, — Iceland vanished,— with the speed of a thun- 
derbolt I passed Spitzbergen, — days, weeks expired, but 
still I sped forward, without fatigue, without exhaustion. 
Howdelightflulyl glided along — no effort — no exertion 
—all was still, cold, and brilliant. I neared the pole, — 
the explorers were slowly wending their tedious way,— 
they hailed me, but I could not stop, — I was out of sight 
in an instant. I saw an immense object swinging to 
and fro in the distance — it was the great and mighty 
pendulum. As I neared it, a confused noise of voices 
broke upon my ear, — mathematical terms echoed and re- 
echoed each other, like the hum of a bee-hive. I was 
13 



194 OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 

surrounded with winged chronometers, ^:barometers and 
magnets — pUis, ( + ) minus (— ) and the roots ( V V) 
were flying around me in every direction, jostling each 
other without mercy. Great long-legged compasses 
with knowing look were gravely listening to the meas- 
ured tick of prim chronometers, and groups of angles 
and parallelograms watched the variations of the 
needle. Every instrument of science appeared col- 
lected in solemn conclave, for great and mighty pur- 
pose, — but soon all was hubbub and confusion. The 
compasses and Gunther's scale had come to blows. 
Angles and triangles, oblongs and cones, formed a 
ring around them. Little cylinders and circles came 
rolling in from every quarter to see the fun, and bottle- 
holding squares and cubes stood stoutly at their 
champions' sides, while electric jars mounted on a 
neighbouring dial, in highest glee, spirited forth whole 
streams of snapping sparks to incite them in the contest. 
The scale was down, and the compass bestrode him in 
proud defiance ; but the bottle-holders interfering, all 
was instant uproar and confusion, and the fight soon be- 
came one common melee. Pins flew about, and springs 
and wheels went whizzing through the throng, but amid 
the tumult, suddenly appeared a huge electrical ma- 
chine, grinding wrathfully along, and soon the field was 
cleared, and nought was seen save here and there 
some limping figure hobbling ofl" in desperate precipi- 
tation. But amid the uproar, the giant pendulum still 



OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 195 

swung forward and backward with the noiseless mo- 
tion of the incubus ; — I neared it and saw that the top 
of the huge rod was riveted by the pole star, which 
shone with the intensity of the diamond. But — but — 
I saw the ship approaching among the distant ice- 
bergs — the great lordly icebergs, — how they rolled 
and roared and ground against each other in the heavy 
surge ! — their huge sides now shining great sheets of 
silver — now glancing with the deep blue of the precious 
sapphire, now quivering in the sun's rays, with all the 
hues of the grass-green emerald and blazing ruby, — 
ha ! I saw her — I saw the gallant ship threading her 
way among them, as their castellated sides towered 
mountain-like above her. I made one spring — one 
gallant spring — and catching by her top-mast, slid down 
in safety to her decks. Her sails were spread widely 
to the winds and recklessly we ploughed our course 
onward through the icy flood ; — but now her speed 
diminished — now we scarcely moved. The rudder 
creaked lazily from side to side, and the long pennant 
supinely resting on the shrouds, languidly lifted itself 
as if to peer into the dark flood, and then serpent-like, 
settled itself again to its repose. A sullen distant roar 
began to break upon my ear, — it increased, — our be- 
fore quiet bark, hastening, rushed onwards as if ashamed 
of her dull reverie ; but still there was no wind — the 
sea was smooth and placid, but the swelling surge was 
thrown forward from her bows, by the increasing velo- 



196 OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 

city with which we dashed along. The rushing noise 
of waters increased, and sounded like distant thunder ; 
the white surges showed themselves in the distance, 
leaping and jumping with frightful violence. I ap- 
proached the captain ; — his gloomy brow — the ghastly 
paleness of the crew, as with folded arms they stood 
looking in the distance, alarmed me. I eagerly asked 
the cause of the appearances before me, — he answered 
not, — he stood immoveable as a statue : — but, in a cold 
unearthly voice, a scar-marked sailor groaned, " We 
are food for the Maelstroom !" — Can we not, I franticly 
exclaimed — oh ! can we not escape ? Bend every sail 
— ply every oar, — " Too late — too late," echoed again 
the gloomy voice — " our doom is sealed ;" — and the fin- 
ger of the speaker pointed to a dark fiendish figure at 
the helm, who, with a low hellish laugh, was steering 
for the midst. The raging waves boiled and roared 
around us, — our fated ship plunged forward — a steady 
resistless power sucked us in, — on we were hurried to 
our frightful goal. The whale — the leviathan, swept 
by us — their immense bodies were thrown almost en- 
tirely in the air, — their blood stained the foaming brine 
— they roared like mad bulls. The zigzag lightning ia 
the black canopy above us, was reflected in fiery 
showers from the spray — the crashing thunder mingled 
■with the yells of the struggling monsters — their efibrts> 
were vain — more power had infants in giants' handsr, 
— the devouring whirlpool claimed us for its own. On; 



OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 197 

we were borne in unresisting weakness— faster and 
faster,— circle after circle disappeared,— we were on 
the edae of the furious watery tunnel,— we were bu- 
ried in its depths,-the long arms of the loathsome 
polypi stretched forward to seize us in their foul em- 
brace— but an unseen hand raised me. 

Green woods- gardens, fountains, and grottoes were 
around me. Beautiful flowers— roses— hyacinths, and 
lilies clustering in immense beds, covered the ground 
with one great gem'd and emerald carpet. The 
gorgeous tulip, the amaranthus and moss rose vied 
with each other in fragrant rivalry, and the modest 
little violet, claimed protection in the embraces of 
the myrtle. Fountains poured mimic cataracts into 
their marble basins, or, spouting from the mouths of 
sphinxes and lions, ascended in crystal streams, irriga- 
ting with copious showers the party-coloured beds 
beneath. The long vistas were shaded with the mag- 
nolia and flowering almond, while snow-white statues 
watched the beautiful picture of happiness around. 
Birds of variegated colour and splendid plumage were 
flying from tree to tree, and it appeared as if in their 
sweet notes, and the fragrance of the flowers, nature 
was off'ering up her incense to the Creator. 

I was invigorated with new life-I ran from alley to 
alley— deUcious fruits tempted my taste-the perfumes 
of Arabia floated in the earthly paradise,-music floated 
around,-trains of beautiful girls moved in graceful 



198 OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 

ballets before me, — their slender forms were clad in 
snow-white robes, — their girdles gemmed with dia- 
monds — their alabaster necks twined with wreaths 
of roses. — A joyous laugh burst from them, as they 
danced — now in circles — now advancing — now re- 
treating. The circle opened, — a veiled figure was in 
the midst, — I approached — the fairies disappeared, — 
the veil was slowly lifted, — one moment — my Cora ! 
— we were alone, — we wandered from bower to bow- 
er — her small white hand with electric touch, was 
within my delighted grasp, — her golden ringlets ming- 
led with my raven locks — her dark eyes melted into 
mine. I fell upon my knee — a cold and grizzly skele- 
ton met my embrace — the groups of houris were 
changed into bands of shrivelled hags ; — in place of 
wreaths of roses, their shrivelled necks were covered 
with the deadly nightshade and dark mandragora — 
forked adders and serpents twined upon their long 
and bony arms, — I shuddered, — I was chained in 
horror to the spot, — they seized me — they dragged 
me downward to the dank and noisome vault. — 'Twas 
light as day — but 'twas a strange light — a greenish 
haze — sickly and poisonous as if the deadly miasma 
of the fens had turned to flame. The dead men with 
burning lamps were sitting on their coflins, — their chins 
resting upon their drawn up knees, and as I passed 
along the extended rows, their eyes all turned and 
followed me, as the eyes of portraits from the canvass. 



I 



OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. 199 

Ha ' ^vhat cadarerous unearthly stare met me at every. 
t„n — T looked on all sides to avoid them, but still, 
where'er I turned, the ghastly muffled faees with their 
blanched lips, and deep sunken eyes livid in thei 
sockets, surveyed me with frightful interest,--and that 
fierce old hag-how she preceded me-step by step- 
her finger pointing forward, while her Medusa head 
was turned triumphantly over her shoulder with its 
infernal leer upon my cowering form-Worlds wou d 
I have given to have been out from among the ghast y 
crew-but a spell was on me-and I hurriedly made 
the circuit of the vault, like a wild beast in his cage. 
But the old knight, sitting grim and ghastly as if by 
constraint, in the lone corner, his long grizzly beard 
flowing o'er his winding-sheet,-0 ! how his cold 
grey eye glanced at his long two handed sword before 
him, as I passed, as if to clutch it,-I plucked the old 
grey beard for very ire-ha ! what a malignant and dis- 
cordant yell did then salute my horror-struck senses,— 
I gave one bound of terror-and burst the prison door- 

and— and — 

My noble white charger leaped clear of the earth, 
as he felt my weight in the saddle,-! was at the head 
of an immense army-my bold cuirassiers formed a 
moving mass of iron around me. The bugle sounded 
the signal for engagement ;-peal after peal of mus- 
ketry flashed from the dark masses,-the rattling re- 
verberating roar rolled from right to left,-the gapmg 



200 OLD TRINITY STEEPLB. 

.throats of the cannon, announced in broad flashes, the 
departure of their messengers upon the journey of 
death. On we rushed — battalion on battalion,— we 
stormed the redoubt, — « Charge,"! shouted, — "Charge 
the villains — men of the fifth legion — follow your 
leader — hurrah — they bear back.'' — I siezed the stan- 
dard from a fallen soldier, — I planted it upon the blood- 
stained parapet — horrible confusion! — the trenches 
were choked with dead — Hah ! brave comrade be- 
ware! — his bayonet is at thy shoulder — 'tis buried 
in thy heart. — I will revenge thee, ! — 1 dashed upon 
him, — we fought like tigers, — we rolled upon the 
ground, — I seized my dagger — the bright steel glittered 
' — thousands of deep hoarse voices wildly roared — 
" The mine — the mine — beware — beware !" Flash — 
roar — bodies — earth — rocks — horses — tumbrils, — all 
descending, covered me — and — and 

I awoke — the fender and fire-irons upset with horrid 
din and clatter — the table, its lights and tea-set 
hurled around — and myself with might and main striv- 
ing with mighty effort to get from beneath the prostrate 
wreck which in my terror I had dragged above me. 
— Old Neptune, aghast, howling in consternation, from 
the corner, while a group of fellow-boarders, half dead 
with laughter and amazement, were staring through the 
open door in wonder at such unusual uproar from the 
lodger in quiet « No. VI." 



LONG ISLAND SOUND. 

But hark ! Old Scipio is fast asleep and snoring 
like Falstaff behind the arras. Now that old negro 
is as assuredly dreaming of witches, or wrecks, or 
pirates, or ghosts, that have beea seen flitting about 
the burying-grounds and country church-yards at mid- 
night, as he sits there. He is somewhere between 
eicrhty and one hundred, he does not exactly know 
.vhich ; but as your negro keeps no family record, it is 
safe to allow a lee-way of some ten years m the cal- 
culation of his nativity. Of his genealogy though, 
he is quite sure, for he proves beyond a doubt, that 
he is the son of Job, who was the son of Pomp, who 
was the son of Caleb, who was the son of C'ccsar, who 
was the son of Cudjoe, who was caught in Africa. 
His whole life has been passed in and about the 
shores of Long Island Sound, and he is not only a 
veritable chronicle of the military adventures that have 
been enacted upon its borders in the American wars, 
but his head is a complete storehouse, stufl^ed to over- 
flowing with all sorts of legendary lore, of wrecks, of 
pirates, of murders and fights, and deeds unholy-of 
massacres, bombardments and burnings, all jumbled up 
in such inexplicable confusion, history and legend, 



202 LONG ISLAND SOUND. 

truth and fiction, that it is almost impossible to divide 
the one from the other. Sometimes in the cold winter 
nights, when the storm is howling, as it does now, I 
put him upon the track, and upon my word, the influ- 
ence of his gossip told in drowsy under tone is such, 
that I find it a matter of serious question, whether the 
most monstrous things in the way of the supernatural, 
are by any means matter of wonderment ; and fully 
concede, that men may have been seen walking about 
with their heads under their arms, vanishing in smoke 
upon being addressed — that old fishermen have sculled 
about the creeks and bays in their coffins, after they 
were dead and buried — that gibbets are of necessity 
surrounded by ghosts, and that prophecies and predic- 
tions, aud witchcraft are, and must be true as holy 
writ. 

Indeed, with all the sad realities of life about me, I 
find it refreshing to have my soul let loose occa- 
sionally, to wander forth, to frolic and gambol, and 
stare, without any conventional rule, or let, or hin- 
drance to restrain it. In how many adventures has 
that good old negro, quietly sleeping in the corner, 
been my guide and pilot. In our shooting, and fishing 
and sailing excursions, the shores of the Sound be- 
came as familiar to us as our own firesides, and the 
dark black rocks, with their round and kelp covered 
sides as the faces of old friends and acquaintance. 

At a little village upon its western borders I passed 



LONG ISLAND SOUND. 203 

my .chool-boy days, and there it was that the old 
negro, formevly a slave, but long Uberated and m part 
supported by my famUy, had his hut. There U-s 
that under his influence I thoroughly contracted the 
lo.e of adventure which, in the retrospect std throws 
a sort of world of my own around me. All sport, 
whether in winter or summer, night or day, ram or 
shine, was alike to me the same, and sooth to say, if 
sundry floggings, for truant days had been admmis|.r- 
edto Old Scip instead of me, the scale of justice had 
not unduly preponderated ; for his boats, and rods, and 
nets, to say nothing of his musket which had belonged 
to a Hessian, and the long bell-mouthed French fusee 
were always sedulously and invitingly placed at my 
control. The old negro was sure to meet me as 1 
bounded from the school-room with advice of how the 
tides would serve, and how the game would lie, and 
his words winding up his information in a low confi- 
dential under-tone still ring upon my ear, " P rhaps 
youn<^ massa like to go wid old nigger." 

Hi°s snug little hut down at the Creek side was cov- 
ered and patched and thatched with all the experiments 
of years to add to its warmth and comfort. Its gables 
and chimney surmounted with little weathercocks and 
windmills spinning most furiously at every whiff- of 
wind, its sides covered with muskrat and loon skins 
nailed up to dry, and fishing rods and spears of all 
sizes and dimensions piled against them, the ducks 



204 LONG ISLAND SOUND. 

and geese paddling about the threshhold and his great 
fat hog grunting in loving proximity to the door- way, 
while its interior was garnished with pots and kettles, 
and other culinary utensils ; the trusty old musket hang- 
ing on its hooks above the chimney place; the fish nets 
and bird decoys lying in the corners, and the white- 
washed walls garnished and covered with pictures, 
and coloured prints of the most negro taste indigo and 
scarlet, — naval fights — men hanging on gibbets, — mon- 
strous apparitions which had been seen — lamentable 
ballads, and old Satan himself in veritable semblance, 
tail, horns and claws, precisely as he had appeared in 
the year Anno Domini, 1703 ; and under the little square 
mahogany framed fly specked looking-glass, his Satanic 
Majesty again in full scarlet uniform as British Colonel 
with a party of ladies and gentlemen playing cards, 
his tail quietly curled around one of the legs of his 
arm chair, and the horse hoof ill disguised by the great 
rose upon his shoe. But Scip' was safe against all 
such diabolic influence, for he had the charmed horse 
shoe firmly nailed over the entrance of his door. 

Oh ! how often have I silently climbed out of my win- 
dow and stealthily crept down the ladder which passed 
it, long and long before the dawn, with my fowling piece 
upon my shoulder, and by the fitful moonlight wended, 
half scared, my way through the rustic roads and lanes, 
leaping the fences, saturated to the middle with the 
night-dew from the long wet grass, the stars twinkling 



LONG ISLAND SOUND. 205 

in the heavens, as the wild scudding clouds passed 
o'er them, and nothmg to break the perfect st.U.ess. 
How often at such times have I stopped and stared at 
some suspicious object looming up before me, till, mus- 
tering courage, I have cocked my piece and advancmg 
at atrail, discovered in the object of my terror, a dozmg 
horse, or patient ox, or cow quietly ruminating at the 

road side. 

How often have I sprung suddenly aside, my hair 
standing on end, as a steal thy fox or prowling dog rush- 
ed by me into the bushes, and felt my blood tingle to 
my very fingers' ends, as some bird of prey raised him- 
self with an uneasy scream and settled again upon the 
tree tops, as I passed beneath. How I used to screw 
™y courage up, as with long strides and studious y 
averted eyes, I hurried past the dreaded grave yard; 
and as I came upon the borders of the winding creek, 
and walked splashing through its ponds and shallows, 
how would I crouch and scan through the dim light to 
catch a glimpse of some stray flock of ducks or teal 
that might be feeding upon its sedges. How wou d I 
bend and stoop as I saw them delightfully huddled m 
a cluster, till getting near I would find an envious bend 
of long distance to be measured before I could get a 
shot How patiently would I creep along-and stop— 
and crouch-and stop, till getting near, and ne=^f«-^ 
sudden slump into some unseen bog or ditch would be 
foUowedby aciuick"quack"-''quack"-andoffthey d 



206 LONG ISLAND SOUND. 

go — far out of reach of shot or call. But all would be 
forgotten when I reached the old Negro's hut. There 
a hot C0rn cake and broiled fish or bird, was always on 
the coals to stay my appetite — and then off we'd sally 
to the Bar to lie in wait for the wild fowl as they came 
over it at day break. The snipe in little clouds would 
startup with their sharp " pewhit" before us, as we 
measured the broad hard flats left damp and smooth by 
the receding tide ; the Kildare with querulous cry would 
^wing away his flight, and the great gaunt cranes, loom- 
ing, spectre-like, in the moonlight, sluggishly stalking 
onwards, would clumsily lift their long legs in silence 
as we advanced, and fan themselves a little farther 
from our proximity. 

Arriving, we would lay ourselves down, and on the 
stones await the breaking of the dawn, when the wild- 
fowl feeding within the bay arise and fly to the south- 
ward over it. Dark objects, one after another, would 
glide by us, and in silence take their places along the 
bar, bent on the same sport that we were awaiting, 
and nothing would break the stillness save the gentle 
wash and ripple of the waves upon the sands, or the 
uneasy and discordant cry of the oldwives, feeding on 
the long sedge within the wide-extended bay. The 
stars would ere long begin to fade, the east grow grey, 
then streaked with Ught, and every sportsman's piece 
be cocked with eager expectation. A flash — a puff of 
smoke at the extreme end, showed that a flock had 



LONG ISLAND SOUND. 207 

risen, and simultaneously birds would be seen tum- 
bling headlong. As the astonished flock glanced along 
the bar — flash — flash — pufl" — bang, would meet them, 
tneir numbers thinning at each discharge, till passing 
along the whole line of sportsmen, they would be 
almost annihilated ; or wildly dashing through some 
wider interval in the chain of gunners, they would cross 
the bar and escape in safety. Then as the light in- 
creased followed the excitement ; the birds getting up 
in dense flocks, all bent in one direction, a complete 
feu-de-joie saluted them — flash — flash — flash — the re- 
ports creeping slowly after, the wild-fowl tumbling 
headlong, some into the water, and some upon the 
sportsmen; while here a gunner, dropping his piece, 
might be seen rushing in up to his neck recklessly 
after his victim, and there some staunch dog's nose 
just above the surface, unweariedly pursuing the wing- 
broken sufferer, which still fluttered forward at his near 
approach. Ah, ha ! that — that was sport. Hundreds of 
wild-fowl, from the little graceful teal to the great fishy 
loon and red-head brant, were the fruits of the morn- 
ing's adventure. And what a contrast the sparkling 
eyes and glowing faces of the elated sportsmen to 
the city's pale and care-worn countenances. They 
were a true democracy, white man, and black, and 
half-breed, the squire and the ploughman, all met in 
like equality. 

Among the sportsmen on the bar at the season that 



208 LONG ISLAND SOUND. 

I have just described, tliere was always found a tall, 
gaunt, and extremely taciturn old Indian, who passed 
among the people by the name of " Pequot." His hut 
was about a mile beyond Scipio's, on the same creeK, 
and like him, he obtained his support mainly by the 
fruits of his hunting and fishing. Now and then, in 
the harvest, or when the game was scarce, he would 
assist the farmers in their lighter work, receiving, with 
neither thanks nor stipulation, such recompense as 
they saw lit to make ; and sometimes, in the cold 
depths of winter, he would appear, and silently sitting 
at their firesides, receive, as a sort of right, his trench- 
er at their tables. He was so kind in his assistance, 
and so inoffensive to all around him, that he was 
always sure of welcome. But there was a marked fea- 
ture in his character, and one most unusual to the Indi- 
an's nature, which was his dislike, almost to loathing, 
of ardent spirits. He was a great deal at Scipio's hut, 
and I was strongly struck (boy as I was) with the har- 
mony which subsisted between two characters so appa- 
rently dissimilar — the sullen, almost haughty Indian, 
and the light-hearted, laughter-loving negro; but there 
was a sort of common sympathy — of oppression, I 
suppose — ^between them, for they always assisted one 
another ; and sometimes I have known them gone for 
days together in their fishing expeditions on the Sound. 
All the information that Scipio could give me about 
him, was that he had been the same ever since he had 



LONG ISLAND SOUND. 209 

known him, that he was supposed to have come in 
from some of the Western tribes, and that from his 
haunting a great deal about a neighbouring swamp, 
M^here the gallant tribe of Pequots had, long years be- 
fore, been massacred by fire and sword, the peo- 
ple had given him the name of Pequot. Whatever he 
was, he was a noble old Indian ; the poetry of the 
character was left, while contact with the whites, and 
the kind teachings of the Moravians had hewn away 
the sterner features of the savage. I remember that 
I used to look at him, with all a boy's enthusiasm, 
admiring him with a mingled sense of sympathy and 
awe. Even old Scip showed him habitual deference, 
for there was a melancholy dignity about him ; and his 
words, short and sententious, were delivered with 
scrupulous exactness. I recollect once being com- 
pletely taken aback by the display of a sudden burst 
of feeling, which completely let me into his ideal 
claims and imaginary pretensions. 

There was a good-natured old Indian, by the name 
of Pamanack, belonging to one of the tribes which still 
clung to Long Island, in the vicinity of Montaukett, 
who occasionally made his appearance off old Scip's 
hut, in the Sound, in his periogue, accompanied by 
some half dozen long-legged, straight-haired, copper- 
coloured youths, his descendants. They every now 
and then came cruising alonsf the various fishinof- 
grounds, and always, when in the vicinity of Scip, the 
14 



210 LONG ISLAND SOUND. 

old Indian would pay him a visit, and receive a return 
for the hospitality paid to the black man, when, in his 
similar excursions, he got as far eastward as Mon- 
taukett. On the particular occasion to which I have 
alluded, old Pamanack had drank more than was good 
for him, when the Pequot presented himself silently at 
the door of Scipio's hut, and leaning upon his long 
ducking-gun, looked in upon the group. After a few 
words of recognition passed between them, Pamanack 
held out his black bottle, and invited the visiter to drink. 
Pequot drew himself up to his extreme height, and for a 
moment there was a mingled expression of loathing, ab- 
horrence, and ferocity, flashing from his countenance 
that showed that his whole Indian's nature was in a 
blaze ; but it was only momentary, for in another, the 
expression vanished from his countenance, the habitual 
melancholy resumed its place upon his features, and the 
words fell slowly, almost musically, from his lips : — 
" The fire water — the fire water — ay, the same — the 
Indian and his deadly enemy." Then looking steadily 
at Pamanack, as he held the bottle still towards him : — 
" Pequot will not drink. Why should Pamanack swal- 
low the white man's poison, and with his own hands 
dig his gra ve ? 

'* Pamanack is not alone ! His squaw watches at 
the door of his wigwam, as she looks out upon 
the long waves of the ocean tumbling in upon 
the shores of Montaukett. His young men gather 
about him and catch the tautuo- from its hu?e 



LONG ISLAND SOUND. 211 

beetling rocks, and tread out the quahog from its muddy 
bed. His old men still linger on the sandy beach, and 
their scalp-locks float wildly in the fresh sea-breeze,. 
Pamanack has yet a home : — but Pequot — he is the 
last of his race. He stands on the high hills of 
Tashaway, and he sees no smoke but that from the 
wigwams of the Long Knives. He moves in silence 
along the plains of Pequonnuck, — but the fences of the 
pale faces obstruct his progress. His canoe dances at 
the side of the dripping rocks, — but the cheating white 
men paddle up to his side. His feet sink in the 
ploughed field, — but it is not the corn of the red man. 
His squaw has rolled her last log, and lies cold in her 
blanket. His young men, — the fire water and fire 
dust have consumed them. Pequot looks around 
for his people — where are they ? The black snake 
and muskrat shoot through the water as his moccasin 
treads the swamp, where their bones lie, deep covered 
from the hate of their enemies. Pequot is the last of 
his race ! Pamanack is good, but the heart of Pequot 
is heavy. He cannot drink the fire water, for his 
young men have sunk from its deadl}"- poison, as the 
mist-wreath in the midday sun. The good Moravians 
have told him that it is bad — and Pequot will drink no 
more — for his race is nearly run. Pequot will sit on 
the high rocks of Sasco, and his robe shall fall from 
his shoulders as his broad chest waits the death-arrow 
of the Great Spirit. There will he sit and smoke in 



212 LONG ISLAND SOUND. 

silence as he looks down upon the deserted hunting- 
grounds of his fathers. Pequot's heart is heavy, — 
Pequot will not drink." As he finished the last words, 
he abruptly turned, and was soon far distant on the 
sands, moving towards the high hill of which he had 
spoken. The Great Spirit was kind to him, for a few 
years after he was found stark and stiff, frozen to 
death on the very rocks to which he had alluded. As 
for old Pamanack, he did not appear to hold the fire 
water in such utter abhorrence ; for, taking a long swig 
at the bottle, his eye following the retiring form of the 
Pequot, he slowly muttered, " Nigger drink — white 
man drink — why no Indian drink too ? " 

But the Sound ! the Sound ! Oh ! how many de- 
lightful reminiscences does the name bring to my re- 
collection. The Sound ! with its white sand banks, 
and its wooded shores — its far broad bosom, covered 
with fleets of sails scudding along in the swift breeze 
in the open day, and its dark waves rolling and sweep- 
ing in whole streams-of phosphorescent fire from their 
plunging bows as they dash through it in the darkness 
of midnight. The Sound ! redolent with military story. 
The Sound ! overflowing with supernatural legend and 
antiquated history. Oh! reader, if you had been 
cruising along its shores from infancy, as I have, 
if you had grown up among its legends, and luxuriated 
in its wild associations, — if you had spent whole days 
on its broad sand beaches, watching the gulls as they 



LONG ISLAND SOUND. 213 

sailed above you, or the snipe as they ran along on the 
smooth hard flats, — if you had lain on the white frozen 
snows on its shore in the still nights^- of mid- winter, 
your gun by your side, gazing till your soul was lost in 
the blue spangled vault, as it hung in serene and tran- 
quil grandeur above you, your mind, in unconscious 
adoration, breathing whole volumes of gratitude and 
admiration to the great God that gave you faculties to 
enjoy its sublimity ; and in the stillness, unbroken save 
by the cry of the loon as he raised himself from the 
smooth water, seen in every sail moving in silence 
between you and the horizon the " Phantom Ship," or 
some daring bucaneer, and in every distant splash heard 
a deed of darkness and mystery, then could you enter 
into my feelings. 

Oh ! to me its black rocks and promontories^ 
and islands, are as familiar as the faces of a 
family. Are there not the " Brothers," unnatural 
that they are, who, living centuries together, never to 
one another have as yet spoken a kindly word, — and 
the great savage '* Executioners," and " Throgs," and 
** Sands," and " Etons," all throwing hospitable lights 
from their high beacon towers, far forward, to guide the 
wandering mariner; and the "Devil's Stepping-stones,'» 
o'er which he bounded when driven from Connecticut ; 
and the great rocks too, inside of Flushing bay on 
which he descended, shivering them from top to bot- 
tom as he fell. And are there not the " Norwalk 
Islands," with their pines — " Old Sasco," with her 



214 LONG ISLAND SOUND. 

rocks, — " Fairweather," with the wild bird's eggs deep 
buried in her sands, — and the far-famed fishing-banks 
off the " Middle ground." Ay ! and is it not from the 
fierce boiling whirlpools of the " Gate " " to Gardi- 
ners,'' and the lone beacon tower of " Old Montaukett," 
one continuous ground of thrilling lore and bold adven- 
ture. In her waters the " Fire ship" glared amid the 
darkness, her phantom crew, like red hot statues, 
standing at their quarters, as rushing onwards, in the 
furious slorm, she passed the shuddering mariner, 
leaving, comet like, long streams of flame behind. 
Beneath her sands the red-shirted bucaneers did hide 
their ill-gotten, blood-bespotted treasure. Ay ! and 
'twas on her broad bosom that, with iron-seared con- 
science sailed that pirate, fierce and bold, old Robert 
Kidd; and to this very day his golden hoards, with 
magic mark and sign, still crowd her wooded shores. 
Hah ! ha ! how, were he waking, old Scipio's eyes 
would upward roll their whites, if he did but hear that 
name so dread and grim. If, from very eagerness, 
he could utter forth his words, he would give whole 
chapters — ay — one from his own family history — for 
Kidd's men caught old Cudjoe, his great ancestor, 
clamming on the beach oflf Sasco, and without more 
ado carried him aboard. As the old negro was sulky 
they tumbled his well-filled basket into the galley's 
tank, and incontinently were about to run him up to 
dangle at their long yard-arm, when Kidd, who was 



LONG ISLAND SOUND. 215 

taking his morning " drink of tobacco" on his poop, 
roared out, in voice of thunder, » Ho ! Scroggs-boat- 
swain-dost hang a black-a-moor at my yard-arm, 
where so many gentlemen have danced on nothing .- 
In the foul devil's name, scuttle the goggled-eyed fiend 
to the sharks overboard,"-and overboard he went, but 
diving like a duck, he escaped their firelocks qmck 
discharge, and reached the shore in safety. 

Ay. and his deep buried treasures ! Where went 
the gold dust from the coast of Guinea 1-the gems 
from Madagascar ?-where the dollars and doubloons 
pirated from the Spanish galleons ?-the broken plate 
and crucifixes from the shores of Panama ?-and where 
the good yellow gold, stamped with the visage of his 
„»ost gracious majesty ^-where! where, but on the 
taunted borders of this very Sound. Why, the very 
sehool.boys, playing in the woods upon its shores, know 
when the earth doth hollow sound beneath their leet, 
that Kidd's treasure 's buried there. Do they disturb 
it 7 No-not they-they know too well the fierce and 
restless spirit that guards the iron pot. Didst ever 
hear the brave old ballad-" A. U saiVd, as he sad d? 
It's a glorious old ballad-it's a true old ballad-and a 
time-honoured old ballad-it gives his veritable history. 
It has been printed in black letter, and sung time 
out of mind. It has been chanted by the old tars m 
sultry calms of the tropics, and the greasy whalers 
have kept time to it over their trying kettles on the 



216 LONG ISLAND SOUND. 

smooth Pacific. It has been sung amid the icebergs of 
Greenland, and heard on the coast of New Holland ; 
the spicy breezes of Ceylon have borne it among the 
sleeping tigers in their jungles, and the Hottentots have 
pulled tighter their breech-cloths as they have listened 
to its tones. The Chinese, and the Turks, and the 
Dutchmen, and the Danes, and every thing human 
within the smell of salt water, have heard it, — ay ! and 
that too in the rich manly tones of the English and 
American sailors. Ho ! Scip ! — wake from out thy 
corner, and give us the old ballad. Shades of red- 
capped bucaneers ! — fierce negro slavers ! — spirits of 
the orallant men who fought the British on her shores ! 
— desperate old Kidd in person ! — we conjure you — 
we conjure you — arise and hover around us, whilst we 
chaunt the lay. Ho ! Scipio ! — the old ballad, as it 
stood smoke-blacked, and grimed upon thy cabin's 
walls — ay ! that is it — and in tones which chimed 
well in unison with the dreary storm and howling blast 
without. 



"YE LAMENTABLE BALLAD, AND Ye TRUE HISTORIE 
OF CAPTAINE ROBERT KIDD, WHO WAS HANGED 
IN CHAINS AT EXECUTION DOCK, FOR PIRACY 
AND MURDER ON Ye HIGH SEAS." 



He calleth upon 
le captains: 



He Btaleth his name 
and acknowiedgeth 
his wickedness: 



Hebeareth witness 
to the good counsel 
of his parents : 



He curseth bis fa- 
ther and iijs mother 
dear: 



i And blasphemeth 

J against God: 



He burielh the 
Good Book in llie 
•and: 



You captains bold and brave, hear our cries, hear our 
cries, 
You captains bold and brave, hear our cries, 
You captains brave and bold, tho' you seem uncon- 
troll'd. 
Don't for the sake of gold lose your souls, lose your 
souls, 

Don't for the sake of gold lose your souls. 

My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail'd, when I 
sail'd, 

My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail'd. 
My name was Robert Kidd, God's laws I did forbid, 

And so wickedly I did, when I sail'd. 

My parents taught me well, when I sail'd, when 1 
sail'd. 

My parents taught me well, when I sail'd. 
My parents taught me well to shun the gates of hell, 

But agamst them I rebell'd when I sail'd. 

I cursed my father dear, when I sail'd, when I sail'd, 
I cursed my father dear, when I sail'd, 

I cursed my father dear and her that did me bear, 
And so wickedly did swear, when I sail'd. 

I made a solemn vow when I sail'd, when I sail'd, 

I made a solemn vow when I sail'd, 
I made a solemn vow, to God I would not bow, 

Nor myself one prayer allow, as I sail'd. 

I'd a Bible in my hand when I sail'd, when I sail'd, 

I'd a Bible in my hand when I sail'd, 
I'd a Bible in my hand by my father's great command, 

And I sunk it in the sand, when I sail'd. 

I murdered William Moore, as I sail'd, as I sail'd, 
I murdered William Moore, as I sail'd, 

I murdered William Moore, and left him in his gore, 
Not many leagues from shore as I sail'd. 



218 



LAMENTABLE BALLAD 



His mate, being 
about to die, repent- 
eth and warnelh him 
in his career. 



idulm t^egunner.'^ And being cruel still, as I sail'd, as I sail'd, 
And being cruel still, as I sail'd, 
And being cruel still, my gunner I did kill, 
And his precious blood did spill, as I sail'd. 

My mate was sirk and died as I sail'd, as I sail'd, 
My niate was sick and died as I sail'd, 

My male was sick and died, which me much terrified. 
When he called me to his bedside as I sail'd. 

And unto me he did say, see me die, see me die, 

And unto me did say see me die, 
And unto me did say, take warning now by me. 

There comes a reckoning day, you must die. 

You cannot then withstand, when you die, when you 
die, 
You cannot then withstand when you die, 
You cannot then withstand the judgments of God's 
hand, 
But bound then in iron bands, you must die. 

I was sick and nigh to death, as I sail'd, as I sail'd, 
»„H^ r.rn'nil^h'"';!!' ^ ^'^^ sick aud nigh to death as 1 sail'd, 

and proiniselti re- » j t • i i • i i i it i 

pentance, but forget- And i was sick and nigh to death, and 1 vowed at 
teth his vows. every breath 

To walk in wisdom's ways as I sail'd. 

I thought I was undone as I sail'd, as I sail'd, 
I thought I was undone as 1 sail'd, 

I thought I was undone and my wicked glass had run, 
But health did soon return as I sail'd. 

My repentance lasted not, as I sail'd, as I sail'd. 
My repentance lasted not, as I sail'd, 

My repentance lasted not, my vows I soon forgot, 
Damnation's my just lot, as I sail'd. 

He steereth thro' I steer'd from Sound to Sound, as I sail'd, as I sail'd, 
^Sounl I "^fer'd from Sound to Sound, as I sail'd, 

1 steer'd from Sound to Sound, and many ships I found 
And most of them i burn'd as I sail'd. 



He chaseth three 
Bhips of France. 



And also three 
ehips of Spain. 



I spy'd three ships from France, as I sail'd, as 1 sail'd, 
I spy'd three ships from France, as I sail'd" 

I spy'd three ships from France, to them I did, advance. 
And took them all by chance, as 1 sail'd. 

I spy'd three ships of Spain, as I sail'd, as I sail'd, 
I spy'd three ships of Spain as I sail'd, 

I spy'd three ships of Spain, I fired on them amain, 
Till most of them were slain, as I sail'd. 



OF CAPTAIN KIDD. 



219 



He boastelh of his 
treasure. 



I'd ninety bars of gold as I sail'd as I sail'd, 
VA Tiinetv bars of gold, as I sail d, 

rd'ni.Tbar-f gold, -d aol.ars man.fold, 
With riches uncontroU'd, as i sail a. 



Then fourteen ships I saw, as I sail'd, as I saiVd, 
He spyeih fourteen ' fourteen ships I saw as I sail d, 

Ah ! they were too much forme as i sau u. 
Thus being o'ertaken at last, I mustdie I must die, 

Thus being o'ertaken at last, I must die, 
Th?s^ing S'ertaken at last -d into prison cast. 

And sentence being pass d, 1 must Qie. 



He iddelh fare- 
veil to the seas, and 
the raging main. 



He exhorteth the 
young and old to 
take counsel from 
bufate: 



And declareth that 
he musl go to hell, 
and be punished for 
his wickedness. 



Farewell the ragtag sea, I.mst die I must die, 
Fa^e^-rrr::Sr=: loTu'rli;; France, and 

Spain, . i- 

I ne'er shall see you again, I must die. 

To Newgate now I'm cast, and must die, and must die, 

To New-ate now I'm cast, and mustdie, 
To New^are I am cast, with a sad andheavy heart. 

To receive my just desert, I must die. 
To Execution Dock I must go, I must go, 
T„^L"eS°So'?r.^ Zn/So„-asfl^^^ 

But 1 must bear the shock, I mustdie. 
Come all ,ou young aud °W. s- -e f , see rue die, 
C^u-e-^lg^SlATyru'frUlcometom, 

For by^it I've lost my soul, and must die. 
Take warning now by me, for I must die, for I must 

Lest you come to hell with me, for I must die. 



GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY. 

[To the untiring exertions of Major D. B. Douglass, Messrs. 
Joseph A. Perry, Henry E. Pierrepont, Gerrit G. Van Wagenen, 
and a few other liberal minded gentlemen, the public are indebted 
for the design and completion of this beautiful place of repose 
for the dead. It is anticipated that ten miles of avenue will be 
completed during the coming summer, and when the whole is 
laid out, according to the proposed plan, that there will be fif- 
teen miles of picturesque road within its precincts. Part of the 
battle of Long Island in the Revolution was fought upon its 
grounds, and it is intended at no distant day, to remove the re- 
mains of those that perished in the Prison Ships to the Cemetery, 
where they will sleep undisturbed beneath an appropriate monu- 
ment. The views from Mount Washington, and other eminences, 
within its precincts, embrace the entire bay and harbour of New- 
York, with their islands and forts : the cities of New York and 
Brooklyn ; the shores of the North and East Rivers ; New-Jersey, 
Staten Island, the Quarantine ; unnumbered towns and villages 
sprinkled over the wide expanse of the surrounding country, and 
the margin of the broad Atlantic, from Sandy Hook, to a dis- 
tance far beyond the Rockaway Pavilion. The fine old forest 
which covers the greater part of the grounds, shrouding and almost 
concealing from sight, several beautiful lakes and sheets of 
water suggested the name, with which it has been consecrated, 
the Green- Wood Cemetery.] 

Where, then, is death ! — and my own voice 
startled me from ray reverie as, leaning on my saddle- 



OREEN-WOOD CEMETERY. 221 

bow on the summit of Mount Washington in the Green- 
wood Cemetery, I asked- Wfere, then, is death! The 
golden sun of a delicious summer's afternoon was 
streaming o'er the undulating hills of Staten Island 
lightin.. more brilliantly the snow-white Y.llas and 
emerald lawns :-the Lazaretto-its fleet gay with the 
flags of all the nations, was nestling like a fairy city at 
its feet :-the noble bay before me was one great pol- 
ished mirror— motionless vessels with white sails 
and drooping pennants, resting on its surface, like 
souls upon the ocean of Eternity, and every thing 
around was bright and still and beautiful as I asked 
myself the question- WAcre, iften, is death! 

The islands with their military works lay calm and 
motionless upon the waters-the grim artillery, like 
sleepin.. tigers crouched upon the ramparts and the 
castle's°walls-but the glistening of the sentry's pel- 
ished musket, and the sudden clamorous roll of drums 
showed me, that— no« there was death. 

I turned.— The great fierce city extending as far as 
eye could reach-the sky fretted with her turrets and 
her spires-her thousand smokes rising and mingling 
with the o'erhanging clouds ;-as she rose above her 
bed of waters,! with hoarse continuous roar, cried to 
„e-"ioofeno( her, not here-for d.ath!" Her 
sister city, with her towers and cupolas-her grassy 
esplanades surmounted with verdant trees and far 
extending colonnades embowered in shrubbery,-from 



222 GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY. 

her high terraced walls, re-echoed the hollow roar — 
« Not here for death /" 

The island lay extended far before me — its farms 
and towns — its modest spires — its granaries — its ver- 
dant meadows — its rich cultivated fields — its woods 
— its lawns — all wrapped in silence, but still its whis- 
per softly reached me — ^^ Not here — not here — is 
death /" — E'en the great distant ocean, closed only 
from my view by the far-reacliing horizon, in sullen 
continuous murmurs moaned — '• Not here is death /" 

Where, then, I cried — where, then, is death ? I 
looked above me, and the blue vault hung pure and 
motionless — light fleecy clouds like angels on their 
journeys, alone resting on its cerulean tint, — around, 
the evening breeze played calm and gently, — and be- 
neath the flowers and leaves were quivering with de- 
light, while the incessant hum of insect life, arising 
from the earth with ceaseless voice, still cried — " No — 
no — not here is death!" 

Ah ! said I, this beautiftd world shall be forever, and 
there is — there is no death — but even as I spoke, a 
wanuDg voice struck with deep solemnity upon my 
startled ear, — " Man that is born of woman, hath but 
a short time to live, and is full of misery. He coraeth 
up, and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were . 
a shadow, and never continueth in one siay." — And as 
I turned, the funeral procession — its minister and its 
mourners passed onward in their journey with the si- 
lent dead. 



GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY. 223 

I looked after the retiring group, and again from 
beyond the coppice which intervened, heard ris- 
ing in the same deep solemn tones, — " Write, from 
henceforth, blessed are the dead who die in the Lord ; 
even so saiththe spirit, for they rest from their labours," 
— and my soul cowered within itself like a guilty 
thing, as it said — Amen. 

I looked again upon the scene before me and sigh- 
ed, — e'en such is human reason. That gorgeous 
sun shall set — the gay villas and verdant lawns, — 
the crowded shipping, — the beautiful bay with all 
that rest upon its bosom, shall soon be wrapt in dark- 
ness, — the gleaming watch-light disappear from yon 
tall battlement, as the bugle sounds its warning note, 
— the great fierce city be stilled in silence, while the 
beating hearts within her midnight shroud, like sec- 
onds, answer her tolling bells upon the dial of eter- 
nity, — and the insect myriads — the flowers and leaves 
— ay ! — the great heavens themselves, shall from the 
darkness cry — " This is the portraiture of death f^-^ 
for the darkness and the silence are all that man can 
jealize of death. 

The hardy Northman with trembling finger points to 
the mouldering frame work of humanity, and shudders 
as he cries — •' Lo ! there is death .'" — and the polished 
Greek smiles delightedly on the faultless statue of the 
lovely woman with the infant sleeping on her breast, 
as he also cries — *' Lo I there is death /" — yet both 
alike with reverence do lay their final offering before 



224 GREEEN-WOOD CEMETERY. 

his gloomy shrine. — The squalid Esquimaux scoops 
out the cavern in the never melting snows, for the fro- 
zen form whose conflicts with the grizzly bear and 
shuddering cold are done — and the mild Hindoo, with 
affection, feeds the funeral pyre, and as the fragrant 
column does arise, cries — " Soul of my brother — im- 
mortal soul, ascend !'' — The red man, in the far distant 
prairie's lonely wilds, pillows the head of the warrior- 
chief upon his slain desert steed within its mound, 
while the bronzed pioneer, throwing aside his axe and 
rifle, hastily dashes away the tear as he inhumes be- 
neath its flowery bed his scar-marked comrade's form. 

The secluded village hamlet, with pious care, within 
the quiet grove, encloses a resting-place for its silent 
few, disappearing at Icmg intervals ; — and here those 
great living cities have chosen this silent city for their 
dead, falling like the forest leaves in autumn. 

For the great army, who must ere long, march forth 
to ground their arms before the grim and ghastly Con- 
queror, 'twere difficult to find more beautiful and 
lovely resting place. E'en the sad mourner lingers 
as he beholds its broad and lovely lawns, stretched 
out in calm serenity before him ; — its sylvan waters 
in their glassy stillness ; its antique elms, arching with 
extended branches the long secluded lanes ; its deep 
romantic glens ; its rolling mounds, and all its varied 
scenery, ere with a softened sadness he turns him to 
his desolate and melancholy home. Oh ! spirits of 



GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY. 225 

our departed ones ! We know that you have gone 
forth from your human habitations, and that we shall 
behold your loved forms no more forever. Oh ! 
therefore will we lay your deserted temples within 
this consecrated ground, and, in imagination, fondly 
see you sleeping still in tranquillity beneath its green 
and silent sward. 

But lo ! where upon the broad and verdant lawn, 
the loose clods and dark black mould heaped care- 
lessly aside, the narrow pit awaits, ere it close again 
from light, its tenant in his dark and narrow house. 
The sorrowing group collect around, and the pall 
slowly drawn aside, one moment more exhibits to 
the loved ones, the pallid countenance of him about 
to be hidden from their sight forever. The weeping 
widow, in her dark habiliments, leans upon the arm 
of the stern, sad brother, her little ones clinging to 
her raiment in mingled awe and admiration of the 
scene before them. " Ashes to ashes" — how she 
writhes in anguish, as the heavy clods fall with hollow 
unpitying jar upon the coffin lid — how like a lifeless 
thing she hangs upon the supporting arm in which 
her countenance is buried in agony unutterable ; and 
see the little ones, their faces streaming with won- 
dering tears, clasping her hands; how in happy igno- 
rance, they innocently, with fond endearing names, 
still call upon him to arise. 

But the narrow grave is filled — the mourning 
15 



2 16 GREENWOOD CEMETERY. 

group have gone — the evening shadows fall — the de- 
clining sun sinks beneath his gorgeous bed in the 
horizon, and in the thickening twilight, the dead lies 
in his mound — alone. The night, advances — the stars 
arise, and the joyous constellations roll high onward 
in their majestic journeys in the o'erhanging heavens 
— but beneath — the tenant of the fresh filled grave, 
lies motionless and still. The morning sun appears, 
the dew, like diamonds, glitters on every leaf and 
blade of grass — the birds joyously carol, and the merry 
lark, upon the very mound itself, sends forth his cheer- 
ful note — but all is hushed, in silence, to the tenant 
who in his unbroken slumber sleeps within. The 
Autumn comes, and the falling leaves whirl with- 
ered from the tree tops, and rustle in the wind — 
the Winter, and the smooth broad plain lies covered 
with its pure and spotless cloak of driven snow, and 
the lowly mound is hid from sight, and shows not, in 
the broad midday sun, nor e'en at midnight, when iho 
silver moon sailing ouwards in her chaste journey 
turns the icicles into glittering gems, on the o'erhang- 
ing branches as they bend protectingly towards it. 
The Spring breathes warmly, and the little mound 
lies green again — and now the mother bending o'er it, 
lifts the rose and twines the myrtle, while the little 
ones in joyous glee from the surrounding meadows, 
bring the wild flowers and scatter them in unison upon 



GREEN- WOOL' CEMETERY. 227 

its borders. Oh ! then ! — were consciousness within 
— then would the glad tenant smile. 

But let him, whose tears as yet fall not for any- 
dear one beneath its sod, ascend again with me the 
Mount, and with retrospective gaze behold the living 
•drama, which has passed before it. The great world 
around — the stage — lies still the same ; but the actors, 
all — all have passed onwards to their final rest. Into 
the still gleaming past bend your attentive gaze. 
Lo, the features of the scenery are still the same 
— the bay's unruffled bosom, and the islands ; but 
no sail now floats upon its surface, no gilded 
spires in the distance loom, nor does the busy hum of 
man reach us, as listening we stand — nought we see 
but the far forest covering the main and islands, even 
to the waters. The coward wolf howls in yon distant 
glen — the partridge drums upon the tree tops — and the 
graceful deer e'en at our sides browses in conscious 
safety. Yon light dot moving upon the water? — 'tis 
the painted Indian paddling his canoe. Yon smoke 
curling on the shore beneath us ? — it is the Indian's 
wigwam — The joyous laugh arising among the trees ? 
It is his squaw and black eyed children — the Indian 
reigus the lord — reigns free and uncontrolled. 

But look again upon the waters floats a huge and 
clumsy galliot — its gay r^id gaudy streamers flaunting 
in the breeze ; how the poor savages congregated on 
yonder point, gaze in wonder as it passes — 'tis the Great 



228 GREEN- WOOD CEMETERY. 

Spirit, and the quaint figure with the plumed hat, and 
scarlet hose glistening with countless buttons, on its 
poop — some demi-god ! — and as she onward moves, 
behold the weather-worn seamen's faces in her rigging, 
how anxiously they return the gaze. — The forest chil- 
dren muster courage — they follow in their light canoes 
— The galliot nears the Manahattoes — they ascend 
her sides — hawks, bells and rings, and beads, and the 
hot strong drink are theirs ; — their land — it is the white 
man's. — See with what confidence he ensconces him- 
self upon the island's borders — in his grasp, he has 
the fish — the furs — the game — the poor confiding 
Indian gives him all — and — behold the embryo city's 
fixed! 

But see ! — Is that the Dutch boor's cabin at our 
feet ? — Is that the Indian seated on the threshold, 
while the Dutchman lolls lazily within ! — Where — 
where then is the Indian's wio^wam ? — orone ! 

Look up again — a stately fleet moves o'er the bay, in 
line of battle drawn ; the military music loudly sounds 
— dark cannon frown from within the gaping ports, and 
crews with lighted matches stand prepared — they near 
the Manahattoes, and — and — the Orange flag descends 
— the Dragon and St. George floats from the flag-stafi' 
o'er the little town. Who is the fair-haired man that 
drinks with the Dutchman at his cottage door, while the 
poor Indian stands submissively aside? — *'It is the 



GREEN- WOOD CEMETERY. 229 

Briton." — I hear the laugh of youth — sure 'tis the In- 
dian's black eyed brood? — " 'Tis the Englishman's yel- 
low haired, blue eyed children." — Alas ! alas ! poor 
forest wanderer — nor squaw — nor child — nor wigwam, 
shall here be more for thee. Farewell — farewell. 

The little town swells to a goodly city — the forests 
fall around — the farms stretch out their borders — wains 
creak and groan with harvest wealth — lordly shipping 
floats on the rivers — the fair haired race increase — 
roads mark the country — and the deer and game, 
scared, fly the haunts of men. — Hah ! — the same flag 
floats not at the Manahattoes ! — now, 'tis Stars and 
Stripes — See ! — crowding across the river men in 
dark masses — cannon — muniments of war — in boats — 
on rafts — in desperate haste. Trenches and ramparts 
creep like serpents on the earth — horsemen scour the 
country — divisions — regiments — take position, and 
stalwart yeomen hurrying forward, join in the ranks 
of Liberty ! — Hear ! hear the wild confusion — the jar 
of wheels — the harsh shrill shriek of trumpets and 
the incessant roll of drums — the rattling musketry — 
the sudden blaze and boom of cannon — it is the roar 
of battle — it is the battle field ! — Hear ! hear the dis- 
tant cry — "St. George and merry England." — "Our 
Country and Liberty." — Ah ! o'er this very ground, 
the conflict passes — See ! the vengeful Briton pros- 
trate falls beneath the deadly rifle — while the yeomen 
masses fade beneath the howling cannon shot — and 



230 GREEN- WOOD CEMETERY. 

hark ! how from amid the sulphurous cloud the wild 
" hurrah" drowns e'en the dread artillery. 

The smoke clouds lazily creep from off the surface 
— the battle's o'er and the red- cross banner floats 
again upon the island of Manahattoes. — And now 
again — the Stripes and Stars stream gently in the 
breeze. 

The past is gone — the future stands before us. 
Ay ! here upon this very spot, once rife with death, 
yonder cities shall lay their slain for centuries to 
come — their slain, falling in the awful contest with the 
stern warrior, against whom human strength is nought, 
and human conflict vain. Years shall sweep on in 
steady tide, and these broad fields be whitened with 
countless sepulchres — the mounds, covered with graves 
where affection still shall plant the flower and trail 
the vine — in the deep valleys, and romantic glens to 
receive their ne'er returning tenants ; the sculptured 
vaults still shall roll ope their marble fronts — beneath 
the massive pyramid's firm-fixed base, the Martyrs of 
the Prisons find their final resting-place — and on this 
spot the stately column shooting high in air, to future 
generations tell, the bloody story of yon battle-field. 

All here shall rest; — the old man — his silver hairs 
in quiet, and the wailing babe in sweet repose — the 
strong from fierce conflict with fiery disease, and 
bowing submissively, the poor pallid invalid — the old 



GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY 



231 



— the young— the strong — the beautiful — all— here shall 
rest in deep and motionless repose. 

Oh! Being! — Infinite and Glorious — UnseeiV — 
shrouded from our vision in the vast and awful mists 
of immeasurable Eternity — Creator — throned in 
splendour inconceivable, mid millions and countless 
myriads of worlds, which still rushing into being at 
thy thought, course their majestic circles, chiming 
in obedient grandeur glorious hymns of praise — 
God of Wisdom, — thou that hast caused the ethereal 
spark to momentarily light frail tenements of clay, — 
grant, that in the terrors of the awful Judgment, they 
may meet the splendours of the opening heavens with 
steadfast gaze, and relying on the Redeemer's media- 
tion, in boundless ecstacy, still cry — Where — Where 
THEN IS Death ! 




APPENDIX. 



CONTENTS. 

Note to the Resurrectionists.— Ghost in the Grave Yard. 

" " Old Kennedy, No. I. — Lieutenant Somers. 

" " Old Kennkdy, No. IJI.—'- The Parting Blessing." 

'* " Old Kennedy, No. IV.— Explosion at Craney Island, 

" "Hudson River. — Military Academy at West-Point. 

( The Dying Soldier. 
" " Night Attack on Fort Erie— •] 

( The Officer's Sabre. 

f Detailed Statement of the Battle. 

I Rainbow of the Cataract. 

I The Day after the Battle. 
I 
" " LuNDY's Lane.— i The two Sergeants. 

I Death of Captain Hull. 

I Scott's Brigade. 

1 Death of Captain Spencer. 

" " Montreal.— Military Insignia. 

" " Lake George.— Attack on Fort Ticonderoga. 

f Crew of the Essex frigate. 
'< " Bass Fishing.— < 

( Mutiny on board the Essex. 

" " Long Island Sound.— New-England Traditions. 



APPENDIX 



me to the Resurrectioni.ts.-a«osr m th. Grave 
Y^KD-In New-England, n.ost of the burying-grounds as 
they ave called, are at some distance from the villages, and 
generally neglected and rnde in their appearance, frequently 
IZroL :ith wnd, dank weeds, and snrronnded by rongh 
stone" walls.-Dr, W., a physician, whose extensive pracfee 
gave him a large circnit of country to r,de over, relates that 
Lurnmg late one night from visUu,g a pat.ent who was 
dangerously ill, his attention was attracted by a human figure 
clad" in white, perched upon the top of the stone wall of one 
of these rustic cemeteries.-The moon was shining cold and 
clear, and he drew up his horse for a moment, and gazed 
steadily at the object, supposing that he was labourmg under 
an optical illusion, but it remained immoveable and he was 
convinced, however singular the position and the hour, that 
his evesi.^tt had not deceived him. Bemg a man of strong 
nerv;s, he determined to examine it, whether human or super- 
natural, more closely, and leaping his horse up the bank ot 
the road he proceeded along the side of the fence towards the 
object. It remained perfectly motionless until he came oppo-» 
site and within a few feet, when it vanished from the fence, 
and in another instant, with a piercing shriek, was chngmg 
round his neck upon the horse.-This was too ranch, for 
even the Doctor's philosophy, and relieving himself with a 



236 



APPENDIX 



violent exertion from the grasp, he flung the figure from him, 
and putting spurs to his horse galloped into the village at 
full speed, a torrent of ghostly lore and diablerie pouring 
through his mind as he dashed along. Arousing the occu- 
pants of the nearest house, they returned to the scene of the 
adventure, jvhere they found the object of his terror, — a poor 
female maniac, who had escaped from confinement in a neigh- 
bouring alms-house, wandering among the tombs. 



Note to Old Kennedy, No. I. — Capt. Somers,* — The 
name of Somers, the twin brother in arms of Decatur, shines 
brightly on the History of American Naval Warfare ; and the 
last desperate action which terminated his short and brilliant 
career with his life, is stamped in colours so indelible, that no- 
thing but the destroying finger of Time can efface it from 
its pages. After severe and continued fighting before Tripo- 
li, the Turkish flotilla withdrew within the mole, and could 
not be induced to venture themselves beyond the guns of the 
Tripolitan Battery. The ketch Intrepid was fitted out as a 
fire-ship, filled to the decks with barrels of gunpowder, shells, 
pitch, and other combustible materials; and Capt. Somers, 
with a volunteer crew, undertook the hazardous, almost des- 
perate, task, of navigating her, in the darkness of night, into 
the middle of the Turkish flotilla, when the train was to be 
fired, and they were to make their escape, as they best could 
in' her boats. 



* The U. S. Brig Somers, in which the late daring mutiny was 
suppressed by the prompt and decided measures of Lt. Alexander 
Slidell McKenzie, was named after this hero of the Tripolitan war. 



APP E N D IX. 237 

Lieutenants Wadsworth and Israel were the only officers 
allowed to join e^tpedition, which was comprised of a small 
crew of picked men. The Intrepid was escorted as far as 
was prudent by three vessels of the squadron, who hove to, to 
avoid suspicion, and to be ready to pick up the boats upon 
their return : the Constitution, under easy sail in the offing. 

Many a brave heart could almost hear its own pulsations 
in those vessels, as she became more and more indistinct, and 
gradually disappeared in the distance. They watched for 
some time with intense anxiety, when a heavy cannonade 
was opened from the Turkish batteries, which, by its flashes, 
discovered the ketch determinedly progressing on her deadly 
errand. She was slowly and surely making for the entrance 
of the mole, when the whole atmosphere suddenly blazed as 
if into open day ; the mast with all its sails shot high up 
in the air ; shells whizzed, rocket like, exploding in every 
direction ; a deafening roar followed and all sunk again into 
the deepest pitchy darkness. The Americans waited — waited 
— in anxious — at last sickening suspense. Their companions 
came not — the hours rolled on — no boat hailed — no oar 
splashed in the surrounding darkness. The East grew grey 
with the dawn — the sun shone brightly above the horizon, 
nought but a few shattered vessels lying near the shore— 
the flotilla — the batteries — and the minarets of Tripoli, gild- 
ed by the morning sunbeams, met their gaze. Those noble 
spirits had written their history. Whether consigned to 
eternity by a shot of the enemy, prematurely exploding the 
magazine, or from the firing of the train by their own hands, 
must always remain untold and unknown. 



238 



APPENDIX. 



Note io Old Kenned]) . i\'o. III. — "The Parting Bless- 
ing.'" — An officer of the Lawrence engaged in this desperate 
action informed the writer, that he observed, in the latter 
part of the battle, the captain of one of the guns, who was a 
perfect sailor, and remarkable for his nearness and fine per- 
sonal appearance, ineftectually endeavouring to work his gun 
himself, after all its crew had fallen. He was badly wounded 
by a grape sliot in the leg ; and although in that situation, he 
W'as supporting himself on the other, while he struggled at 
the tackle to bring the piece to bear. The officer told him 
that he had better leave the gun, and join one of the others, 
or, as he was badly wounded, go below. " No — no, sir," — 
said the brave tar, — " Fve loaded her, and if I've got to go 
below, it shan't be before / give 'em a parting Ueftsirig /" 
The officer then himself assisted him in running the gun 
out of the port. The sailor, taking a good and deliberate 
aim, discharged her into the British ship, and then dragged 
himself down to the cockpit, fully satisfied with the parting 
compliment that he had paid the enemy. General Jackson, 
■during his administration, granted the man a pension. 



Note to Old Kennedy. No. IV. — Explosion at Craney 
Island. — One of the oldest of the surgeons now in the navy, 
who was present when the British were defeated in their 
attempt to cut out the Constellation at Craney's Island, in 
Hampton Roads, in the last war, relates the following 
anecdote. 

The fire of the Americans was so heavy, that the British 
flotilla was soon obliged to retire, a number of their boats 
having beea disabled by the cannon shot — one, in particular, 
iiaving beea cut in two, sunk, leaving the men struggling ia 



APPENDIX. 239 

the water for their lives. It was thought that it contained an 
officer of rank, as the other boats hurried to her assistance, 
and evinced much agitation until the individual alluded to 
was saved. But to let the doctor tell his own story : — 

"Well, they retreated, and we made prisoners of those 
whose boutg having been cut up, were struggling in the wa- 
ter. Among others, tliere was a fine looking fellow, a petty 
officer, who had been wounded by the same shot that had 
sunk the boat ; so I got him up to the hospital-tent, and cut 
■off his leg above the knee, and having made him comforta- 
ble, ( ! ) walked out upon the beach, with my assistant for a 
stroll. We had not gone far, when we were both thrown 
upon our backs by a violent shock which momentarily stun- 
ned us. On recovering ourselves, we observed the air filled 
with cotton descending like feathers. We did not know how 
to account for the phenomenon, till, advancing some distance 
farther, we found a soldier lying apparently dead, with his 
musket by his side. I stooped down, and found that the man 
was wounded in the head, a splinter having lodged just over 
the temple. As I drew out the si)]inter, he raised himself, 
and stared stupidly about him. I asked him what he was 
doing there 1 — " I'm standing ground over the tent, sir," he 
replied. What tent 1 — " Why sir, the tent that had the gun. 
powder in it." How came it to blow up — what set it on 
firel — " I don't know, sir." Did nobody come along this 
way 1 — " Yes, sir ; a man came along with a cigar in his 
mouth, and asked if he might go in out of the sun ; I told 
him, yes I — and he went in, and sat himself down — and that 
IS the last that I recollect, until I found you standing over 
me here." Upon going a few hundred feet farther, we found 
a part, and still farther on, the remainder of the body of the 



240 APPENDIX. 

unfortunate man, who ignorantly had been the cause of the 
explosion, as well as his own death. He was so completely 
blackened and burnt that it would have been impossible, from 
his colour, to have distinguished him from a negro." 



Note to Hudsoji River. — Military Academy at West- 
Point. — West-Point, with her majestic scenery — her savage 
mountains — the river winding at their feet — her military ruins 
rising among the forest-trees — her fine architectural edifices 
— her flag proudly floating from its staff against the back- 
ground of pure blue ether — her bright and elastic youth, in 
all " the pomp and circumstance of war " — now marching 
on the broad and verdant plain, in glittering battalion — now 
as cavalry, spurring their snorting horses in close squadron 
— now with light artillery hidden in the smoke of their rapid 
evolutions — now calculating amid the bray of mortars, the 
curving course of bombs — measuring the ricochetting shot 
bounding from the howitzers — amid the roar of heavy 
cannon, watching the balls as they shiver the distant tar- 
gets. — West-Point, enveloped in its spicy mountain breezes 
— West-Point — its romantic walks — its melodious birds, 
warbling in ecstacy among its trees — its heroic monuments 
-^its revolutionary relics — its associations, past and present 
—is, to the tourist, poetry — but to the cadet — sober, sober 
prose. Incessant study — severe drilling — arduous exami- 
nations — alike amid the sultry heats of summer, and intense 
cold of winter, mark the four years of his stay, with a con- 
tinual round of labour and application : — application so severe 
that health frequently gives way under the trial. None but 
the most robust and hardy in constitution, can sustain the 
fatigue and labour. But few, nursed in the lap of wealth, are 
willing to undergo its hardships ; yet, though the far greater 



APPENDIX. 241 

part of the number are from what are called the hardy, certainly 
not the opulent part of the community ; under the cry of aristo- 
cracy, the Academy is made a standing mark for the attacks of 
the radicals in the Federal and State legislatures. Of all 
the places of public instruction in the country — in a national 
point of view — it is the most important ; for while it furnish- 
es to the army a corps of officers acknowledgedly unsurpass- 
ed in military and scientific attainments by that of any service 
in Europe — officers, whose names are synonymous with 
modesty and honour, it is of incalculable importance in fur- 
nishing to the country, commanders and instructors for the 
militia in time of war, and engineers for the constant plans 
of public improvement in peace. West-Point proudly boasts 
that not one of her sons has ever disgraced himself, or his 
country, in the face of the enemy. She can, with equal pride, 
point to almost every work of importance in the country, and 
say, "There too, is their handywork." While the noble 
works of defence on the frontiers and sea-board bear testimony 
to the talent and science of Totten, Thayer, and other gen- 
tlemen of the corps of engineers, the railroads, aqueducts 
and canals of the States bear equal witness to the energies 
of Douglass, McNeill, Whistler, and other officers, who have 
entered the walks of private life. 

Well would it be in this disorganizing age, if, instead of 
prostrating this, every State had within her borders a similar 
institution as a nucleus of order, discipline, and obedience. 
The following extract of a letter from an officer who stands 
high in the service, may not be uninteresting to the reader. 
16 



242 



APP E NDIX 



February 16, 1843. 
*' I send you herewith a part of the information which you 
required in your last letter. The Military Academy is a 
great honour to the country, and is so understood abroad. I 
have frequently heard foreign officers express their opinion, 
that it was equal to any institution in Europe, and I was par- 
ticularly gratified when I was abroad, to find the English offi- 
cers so jealous of it. They seemed to understand very 
distinctly, that, although the policy of the country prevented 
•our sustaining a standing army, that we had yet kept up with 
the age in military science ; and stood ready prepared with 
a body of officers, well educated in scientific knowledge, to 
supply a large army for efficient and vigorous operations. 

" The whole number of graduates at the Academy since 
its foundation, is 1167. Of this number there have died 
in service, 168. There have been killed in battle, 24. 
Of those wounded in service, there is no record. The 
number of those who have died since 1837, is 1 major, 17 
captains, 21 first lieutenants, and 9 second lieutenants. 

" The rank of those killed since 1837, was 1 lieutenant- 
colonel, 2 captains, 3 first lieutenants, and 2 second lieu- 
tentmts. The rank of those killed previous to that time can 
only be ascertained by great care in revising the Registers. 
The enemies of the Academy have charged, that men have 
been educated and resigned without performing service in 
the army. This is not so. Besides, the term of service in 
the Academy, where they are liable at any time to be called 
upon and sent to the extremes of the Union, they are obliged 
by law, to serve four years after they have graduated, and in 
fact, they seldom do resign, unless they are treated unfairly 
by government, and the proportion of resignations of officers 



APPENDIX. 243 

appointed from civil life, is much greater than from those that 
liave graduated at the Academy. A large number of resig- 
nations took place in 1836, which was attributable to high 
salaries offered for civil engineers, and to the general dis- 
gust which pervaded the army, upon the constitution of two 
regiments of dragoons, when the appointments were made 
almost exclusively from civilians, and officers of long-stand- 
ing and arduous service in the army found themselves out- 
ranked by men of no experience, and who had done no service. 
You can have no idea of the injustice which was done on that 
occasion. The ambition of many of the officers was broken 
down, and they retired in disgust." 



Note to Fort Erie. — The Dying Soldier. — '^ On the day 
preceding the night attack," said the Major, " while the 
enemy were throwing an incessant discharge of shot and 
shells into our works, I observed at a little distance beyond 
me a group of people collected on the banquette of the ram- 
part ; I approached and found that one of the militia had 
been mortally wounded by a cannot shot, and that, supported 
by his comrades, he was dictating with his dying breath his 
last words to his family. " Tell them," said he, " that — 
thai — I d-i-e-d 1-i-k-e a b-r-a-v-e m-a-n — figh — fig-h-t — " 
and here his breath failed him, and he sunk nearly away — 
butrousinghimselfagain with a desperate exertion — " b-r-a-v-e 
m-a-n — fight-in-g for — for — my c-o-u-n-try," — and he ex- 
pired with the words upon his lips." 



Night Attack on Fort Erie. — The Officer's Sabre. — 
The writer saw in the possession of Major , a beauti- 
ful scimitar-shaped sabre, with polished steel scabbard ; the 



244 APPENDIX. 

number of the regiment, (119th, he thinks,) embossed on its 
blade, which one of the soldiers picked up and brought in 
from among the scattered arms and dead bodies in front of 
the works on the following morning. The white leathern belt 
was cut in two, probably by a grape shot or musket ball, and 
saturated with blood. Whether its unfortunate owner was 
killed, or wounded only, of course could not be known. It 
was a mute and interesting witness of that night's carnage — 
and had undoubtedly belonged to some officer who had been 
in Egypt, and had relinquished the straight European sabre, 
for this favourite weapon of the Mameluke. 



Note to Attack on Fort Erie, and Battle of Lundy's Lane. 
— ^These two articles elicited the following reply from the 
pen of an officer of the U. S. army, who has, alas ! since it 
was written, fallen before the hand of the grim tyrant, whose 
blow never falls but in death. The authenticity of the state- 
ment can be relied upon, as the documents from whence it 
was derived, were the papers of Major-General Brown, and 
other high officers engaged in the campaign. It is proper to 
observe, that in the rambling sketch of a tourist, where a mere 
cursory description was all that was aimed at, the apparent 
injustice done to that gallant officer and eminently skilful 
soldier, Major-General Brown, (who certainly ought to have 
been placed more prominently in the foreground,) was en- 
tirely unintentional. The officer alluded to was under the 
impression that Colonel Wood's remains were never recov- 
ered, and that consequently the monument erected to his 
memory at West- Point does not rest upon them. Much of 
the material of the two articles (eliciting these comments) was 
derived from conversations with another highly accomplished 



245 

APPENDIX. 

and now retired officer of the U. S. arn,y; -d as they were 
published wUhout his knowledge, the writer inserts the fol- 
lowing reply made to the strictures at the time ; 

* .°. * " Deeming that ' a local habitation and a name may 
be affixed to my fr.end the ' Major,' and that he may be con- 
sidered responsible for inaccnraetes for which others a one 
are accountable, I hasten to say, that in the description of he 
battle at Lundy's Lane, (with the exception of some of the 
personal anecdotes,) the title is retained merely as a «»« de 
' „„ to carry the reader through the different phases o 
L action. The description of the night attack on lort 
Erie, as well as that of the character and personal appear- 
ance of Lieutenant-Colonel Wood, is, however, almost lite- 
rally that given at the fireside of my fr.end. The informafon 
received from the British camp on the following morning, 
through a flag, was, as near as could be ascertamed, that 
Colonel Wood had been bayonetted to death on the ground ; 
and my impression was that his body had been subsequently 
identified and returned. But as your correspondent, appa- 
rently a brother officer, speaks so decidedly, I presume he is 
correct. Far more agreeable to me would it have been to 
have remained under the delusion, that the bones of that gal- 
lant and accomplished soldier slept under the green plateau 
of West Point, than the supposition that even now they may 
be restlessly whirling in some dark cavern of the cataracts. 
The account of the battle at Lundy's Lane was compiled 
ftom one of the earlier editions of Brackenridge's Historyof 
th. Late War, (I think the third,) the only written authority 
,hat I had upon the subject, and from conclusions drawn from 
rambles and casual conversations on the battle-ground. In 
how far a rough sketch, which was all that was aimed at, 



246 



APPENDIX 



has been conveyed from that authority, the reader, as well 
as your correspondent, can best determine by referring to the 
history alluded to." The desperate bayonet charge is thus 
described in that work, fourth edition, p. 269-270. 

* * * * " The enemy's artillery occupied a hill which was 
the key to the whole position, and it would be in vain to hope 
for victory while they were permitted to retain it. Address- 
ing himself to Colonel Miller, he inquired whether he could 
storm the batteries at the head of the twenty first, while he 
would himself support him with the younger regiment, the 
twenty-third 1 To this the wary, but intrepid veteran replied, 
in an unaffected phrase, ' I'll try, sir ;'* words which were 
afterwards given as the motto of his regiment. 

* * * * " The twenty-third was formed in close column 
under its commander, Major McFarland, and the first regi- 
ment, under Colonel Nicholas, was left to keep the infantry 
in check. The two regiments moved on to one of the most 
perilous charges ever attempted ; the whole of the artillery 
opened upon them as they advanced, supported by a power- 
ful line of infantry. The twenty-first advanced steadily to 
its purpose ; the twenty-third faltered on receiving the deadly 
fire of the enemy, but was soon rallied by the personal exer- 
tions of General Ripley. When within a hundred yards of 
the summit, they received another dreadful discharge, by 
which Major McFarland was killed, and the command de- 
volved on Major Brooks. To the amazement of the British, 
the intrepid Miller firmly advanced, until within a few paces 
of their line, when he impetuously charged upon the artillery, 



* The twenty -first carried the celebrated '77/ try, Sir,'' inscribed 
upon their buttons during the remainder of the war. 



247 

APPENDIX. -='" 



Which, after a short bat desperate resistance, yielded their 
whole battery, and the American line was in a mon,e„t formed 
in the rear upon the ground previously occupied by tlte Bri- 
tish infantry. In carrying the larger pieces, the twenty-firs 
suffered severely. Lieutenant Cilley, after an -.examped 
effort, fell v^ounded by the side of the piece which he took . 
there were but few of the officers of this regiment who were 
not either killed or wounded. 

"So far as I can recollect, the personal narrative of my 
friend was as follows : Miller, quietly surveying the battery, 
coolly replied-' I'll try, sir ;' then turning to bis regiment, 
, drilled to beautiful precision, said, ' Attent on, twenty-first 
I He directed them as they rushed up the hUl, to deliver their 
' fire at the port-lights of the artillerymen, and to immedia^ly 
carry the guns at the point of the bayonet. In =;^very shor. 
k time they moved on to the charge, delivered their fire as 
i directed,'and after a furious struggle of a few moments over 
the cannon, the battery was in their possession. The words 
of caution of the officers, ' Close up-steady, men-steady, 
. I have heard indifferently ascribed to them at this charge, 

and at the desperate sortie from Fort Erie. I am thus par- 
ticular with regard to the detail of this transaction, not tha 
I think your correspondent, any more than myself, regards it 
as of much moment, but lest my friend should be considered 
responsible for words which he did not utter 

* ... "To show with what secresy the arrangements 
were made for the sortie, it is believed «hat *e enemy was 
in utter ignorance of the moveinent. To confirm him m er r. 
a succession of trusty spies were sent to him in the char c^ 
of deserters up to the close of day of the 16th ; and o litUe 
did the army know of what were General Brown's plans for 



^^^ APPENDIX. 

that day, that even if an officer had gone over to the enemy, 
the information he could have given must have been favour- 
able to the meditated enterprise, as no one had been consulted 
but General Porter, and the engineers Colonels McRae and 
Wood. 

"At nine o'clock in the evening of the 16th, the general- 
in-chief called his assistant adjutant-general. Major Jones, 
and after explaining concisely his object, ordered him to see 
the officers whom the General named and direct them to his 
tent. The officers General Brown had selected to have the 
honour of leadmg commands on the 17th came j he explained 
to them his views and determinations, and enjoyed much 
satisfaction at seeing that his confidence had not been mis- 
placed. They left him to prepare for the duty assigned to 
them on the succeeding day. At twelve o'clock the last 
agent was sent to the enemy in the character of a deserter, 
and aided, by disclosing all he knew, to confirm him in se- 
curity. 

" The letter, of which the following is an extract, was writ- 
ten by General Brown to the Department of War early in 
the morning of the 25th July, 1814 : 

" ' As General Gaines informed me that the Commodore was 
in port, and as he did not know when the fleet would sail, or 
when the guns and troops that I had been expecting would 
even leave Sackett's Harbour, I have thought it proper to 
change my position with a view to other objects.' 

" General Scott, with the first brigade, Towson's artillery, 
all the dragoons and mounted men, was accordingly put in 
march towards Queenston. He was particularly instructed 
to report if the enemy appeared, and to call for assistance if 
that was necessary. Having command of the dragoons, he 



APPENDIX. 249 

would have, it was supposed, the means of intelligence. On 
General Scott's arrival near the Falls, he learned that the 
enemy was in force directly in his front, a narrow piece of 
woods alone intercepting his view of them. Waiting only to 
despatch this infoniiation, but not to receive any in return, 
the General advanced upon him. 

" Hearing the report of cannon and small arms, General 
Brown at once concluded that a battle had commenced be- 
tween the advance of his army and the enemy, and without 
waiting for information from General Scott, ordered the 
second brigade and all the artillery to march as rapidly as 
possible to his support, and directed Colonel Gardner to re- 
main and see this order executed. He then rode with his 
aids-de-camp, and Major McRee, with all speed towards the 
scene of action. As he approached the Falls, about a mile 
from Chippeway. he met Major Jones, who had accompanied 
General Scott, bearing a message from him, advising General 
Brown that he had met the enemy. From the information 
given by Major Jones, it was concluded to order up General 
Porter's command, and Major Jones was sent with this order. 
Advancing a little further. General Brown met Major Wood, 
of the engineers, who also had accompanied General Scott. 
He reported that the conflict between General Scott and the 
enemy was close and desperate, and urged that reinforce- 
ments should be hurried forward. The reinforcements were 
now marching with all possible rapidity. The Major-General 
was accompanied by Major Wood to the field of battle. Upon 
his arrival, he found that General Scott had passed the wood» 
and engaged the enemy upon the Queenston road and the 
ground to the left of it, with the 9th, 11 th, and 22d regi- 
ments, and Towson's artillery. The 25th had been detached 



250 APPENDIX. 

to the right to be gcverned by circumstances. ApprehendP- 
ing these troops to be much exhausted, notwithstanding the- 
good front they showed, and knowing that they had suffered 
severely in the contest, General Brown determined to form 
and interpose a new line with the advancing troops, and thus 
disengage General Scott, and hold his brigade in reserve. 
By this time Captains Biddle and Ritchie's companies of 
artillery had come into action. The head of General Rip- 
ley's column was nearly up with the right of General Scott's 
line. At this moment the enemy fell back, in consequence^ 
it was believed, of the arrival of fresh troops, vi'hich they 
could see and begin to feel. At the moment the enemy 
broke. General Scott's brigade gave a general huzza, that 
cheered the whole line. General Ripley was ordered to 
pass his line and display his column in front. The move- 
ment was commenced in obedience to the order. Majors 
McRee and Wood had rapidly reconnoitered the enemy and 
his position. McRee reported that he appeared to have 
taken up a new position with his line, and with his artillery, 
to have occupied a height which gave him great advantages 
it being the key of the whole position. To secure the vic- 
tory, it was necessary to carry this height, and seize his 
artillery. McRee was ordered by the Major-General to con- 
duct Ripley's command on the Queenstown road, with a view- 
to that object, and prepare the 21st regiment under Colonel 
Miller for the duty. 

" The second brigade immediately advanced on the Queen- 
ston road. Gen. Brown, with his aids-de-camp and Major 
Wood passing to the left of the second brigade in front of the 
first, approached the enemy's artillery, and observed an ex- 
tended line of infantry formed for its suppoit. A detachment 



APPENDIX . 251 

of the first regiment of infantry, under command of Col. 
Nicolas, which arrived that day, and was attached to neither 
of the brigades, but had marched to the field of battle in the 
rear of the second, was ordered promptly to break off to the 
left, and form a line facing the enemy on the height, with a 
view of drawing his fire and attracting his attention, while 
Col. Miller advanced with the bayonet upon his left flank to 
carry his artillery. As the first regiment, led by Major 
Wood and commanded by Col. Nicolas, approached its posi- 
tion, the commanding General rode to Col. Miller, and order- 
ed him to charge and carry the enemy's artillery with the 
bayonet. He replied in a tone o great promptness and good 
humour — ' It shall be done, Sir.' 

" At this moment the first regiment gave way under the fire 
of the enemy ; but Col. Miller, without regard to this circum- 
stance, advanced steadily to his object, and carried the height 
and the cannon in a style rarely equalled — never excelled. 
At this point of time when Col. Miller moved, the 23d regi- 
ment was on his right, a little in the rear. Gen. Ripley led 
this regiment : it had some severe fighting, and in a degree 
gave way, but was promptly reformed, and brought upon the 
right of the 21st, with which were connected a detachment of 
the 17th and 19th. 

" Gen. Ripley being now with his brigade, formed a line, 
(the enemy having been driven from his commanding ground) 
with the captured cannon, nine pieces in the rear. The first 
regiment having been rallied, was brought into line by Lt. 
Col. Nicolas on the left of the second brigade ; and Gen. 
Porter coming up at this time, occupied with his command 
the extreme left. Our artillery formed the right between the 
21st and 23d regiments. Having given to Col. Miller orders 



262 



APPENDIX 



to Storm the heights and carry the cannon as he advanced, 
Gen. Brown moved from his right flank to the rear of his 
left. Maj. Wood and Capt. Spencer met him on the Queen- 
ston road ; turning down that road, he passed directly in the 
rear of the 23rd, as they advanced to the support of Col. Mil- 
ler. The shouts of the American soldiers on the heights at 
this moment, assured him of Col. Miller's success, and he 
hastened toward the place, designing to turn from the Queen- 
ston road towards the heights up Lundy's Lane. In the act 
of doing so, Maj. Wood and Capt. Spencer, who were about 
a horse's length before him, were near riding upon a body of 
the enemy; and nothing prevented them from doing it but an 
officer exclaiming before them, " They are the Yankees." 
The exclamation halted the three American officers, and upon 
looking down the road they saw a line of British infantry 
drawn up in front of the western fence of the road with its 
right resting upon Lundy's Lane. 

" The British officer had, at the moment he gave this alarm, 
discovered Maj. Jesup. The Major had, as before observed, 
at the commencement of the action, been ordered by Gen. 
Scott to take ground to his right. 

" He had succeeded in turning the enemy's left, had captured 
Gen. Riall and several other officers, and sent them to camp, 
and then, feeling and searching his way silently towards where 
the batle was raging, had brought his regiment, the 25th, 
after a little comparative loss, up to the eastern fence at the 
Queenston road, a little to the north of Lundy's Lane. The 
moment the British gave Jesup notice of having discovered 
him, Jesup ordered his 1?ommand to fire upon the enemy's 
line. The lines could not have been more then four rods 
apart — Jesup behind the south fence, the British in fiont of 



APPENDIX. 253 

the north. The slaughter was dreadful ; the enemy fled 
down the Queenston road at the third or fourth fire. As the 
firing ceased, the Major-General approached Major Jesup, 
advised him that Col. Miller had carried the enemy's artil- 
lery, and received information of the capture of Gen. Riall. 
" The enemy having rallied his broken forces and received 
reinforcements, was now discovered in good order and in great 
force. The commanding General, doubting the correctness 
of the information, and to ascertain the truth, passed in per- 
son with his suite in front of our line. He could no longer 
doubt, as a more extended line than he had yet seen during 
the engagement was near, and advancing upon us. Capt. 
Spencer, without saying a word, put spurs to his horse, and 
rode directly up to the advancing line, then, turning towards 
the enemy's right, inquired in a strong and firm voice, 

* What regiment is that V and was as promptly answered, 

* The Royal Scots, Sir.' 

" General Brown and suite then threw themselves behind 
our troops without loss of time, and waited the attack. The 
enemy advanced slowly and firmly upon us : perfect silence 
was observed throughout both armies until the lines approach- 
ed to within four to six rods. Our troops had levelled their 
pieces and the artillery was prepared, — the order to fire was 
given. Most awful was its effect. The lines closed in part 
before the enemy was broken. He then retired precipitately? 
the American army following him. The field was covered 
with the slain, but not an enemy capable of marching was to 
be seen. We dressed our men upon the ground w^e occupied. 
Gen. Brown was not disposed to leave it in the dark, know- 
ing it was the best in the neigbourhood. His intention, then* 



254 APPENDIX. 

was to maintain it until day should dawn, and to be governed 
by circumstances. 

" Our gallant and accomplished foe did not give us much 
time for deliberation. He showed himself within twenty 
minutes, apparently undismayed and in good order." 

Extract of a private letter from the writer of the above 
article, dated January 15, 1841. * * * * 

"As to the fate of the gallant and accomplished Wood. — 
You supposed a flag from the enemy reported he had been 
bayoneted to death on the ground — like enough, but how did 
the enemy recognise his body. Gen. Porter thinks he fell 
at the close of the action at battery No. 1, but! never heard 
that any one saw him fall. — His body never was recovered. 
Those of Gibson and Davis, the leaders of the two other col- 
umns in Gen. Porter's command, were. 

" Soon after the war, McRee, one of the best military engi- 
neers this country ever produced, threw up his commission in 
disgust and died of the cholera at St. Louis. 

" From the time I lost sight of Gen. Scott in my narrative 
until after the change referred to at the end of the narrative, 
Gen. Scott with three of his battalions had been held in reserve. 
The commander-in-chief now rode in person to Gen. Scott, 
and ordered him to advance. That officer was prepared and ex- 
pected the call. — As Scott advanced toward Ripley's left, Gen. 
Brown passed to the left to speak with Gen. Porter and see 
the condition and countenance of his militia, who, at that mo- 
ment, were thrown into some confusion under a most galling 
and deadly fire from the enemy : they were, however, kept 
to their duty by the exertions of their gallant chiefs, and 
most nobly sustained the conflict. The enemy was repulsed 
and again driven out of sight. But a short time, however, had 



APPENDIX. 255 

elapsed, when he was once more distinctly seen, in great 
force, advancing upon our main line under the command of 
Ripley and Porter. The direction that Scott had given his 
column would have enabled him in five minutes, to have 
formed a line in the rear of the enemy's right, and thus have 
brought him between two fires. But in a moment most 
unexpected, a flank fire from a party of the enemy, concealed 
upon our left, falling upon the centre of Scott's command, 
when in open column, blasted our proud expectations. His 
column was severed in two ; one part passing to the rear, the 
other by the rig[it flank of platoons towards the main line. 
About this period Gen. Brown received his first wound, a 
musket ball passing through his right thigh and carrying 
away his watch seal, a few minutes after Capt. Spencer re- 
ceived his mortal wound. * * * * 

" This was the last desperate effort made by the enemy to 
regain his position and artillery. * * * * 

" Porter's volunteers were not excelled by the regulars 
during this charge. They were soon precipitated by their 
heroic commander upon the enemy's line, which they broke 
and dispersed, making many prisoners. The enemy now 
seemed to be effectually routed ; they disappeared. * * * * 

" At the commencement of the action, Col. Jesup was de- 
tached to the left of the enemy, with the discretionary order, 
to be governed by circumstances. — The commander of the 
British forces had committed a fault by leaving a road un- 
guarded on his left. Col. Jesup, taking advantage of this, 
threw himself promptly into the rear of the enemy, where he 
was enabled to operate with brilliant enterprise and the 
happiest effect. The capture of Gen. Riall, with a large es- 
cort of officers of rank,was part of the trophies of his intrepidi- 



256 APPENDIX. 

ty and skill. It is not, we venture to assert, bestowing on 
him too much praise to say, that to his achievements, more 
than to those of any other indievidual, is to be attributed the 
preservation of the first brigade from utter annihilation. 

"Among the officers captured by Col. Jesup, was C'apt. 
Loring, one of General Drummond's aid-de-camps, who had 
been d s^ a ched from the front line to order up the reserve, 
with a view to fall on Scott with the concentrated force of 
the whole army and overwhelm him at a single effort. Nor 
would it have been possible to prevent this catastrophe, had 
the reserve arrived in time ; the force with which General 
Scott would have been obliged to contend being nearly quad- 
ruple that of his own. By the fortunate capture, however, 
of the British aid-de-camp, before the completion of the ser- 
vice on which he had been ordered, the enemy's reserve was 
not brought into action until the arrival of Gen. Ripley's 
brigade, which prevented the disaster that must otherwise 
have ensued, and achieved, in the end, one of the most 
honourable victories that ever shed lustre upon the arms of a 
nation. ** * * 



Note to Lundi/s Lane. — Rainbow of the Cataract. — 
The afternoon of the action presented one of those delicious 
summer scenes in which all nature appears to be breathing in 
harmonv and beauty. — As General Scott's brigade came in 
view, and halted in the vicinity of the cataracts, the mist rising 
from the falls, was thrown in upon the land, arching the 
American force with a vivid and gorgeous rainbow, the left 
resting on the cataract, and the right lost in the forest. Its 
brilliance and beauty was such, that it excited not only the 
enthusiasm of the officers, but even the camp followers were 
filled with admiration. 



APPENDIX. 257 

Note to Lundy''s Lane. — The day after the battle. — 
"I rode to the battle-ground about day-light on the following 
morning, without witnessing the presence of a single British 
officer or soldier. The dead had not been removed through 
the night, and such a scene of carnage I never before 
beheld. — Red coats, blue, and grey, promiscuously intermin- 
gled, in many places three deep, and around the hill where 
the enemy's artillery was carried by Colonel Miller, the car- 
casses of sixty or seventy horses added to the horror of the 
scene." — Private Letter of an Officer. 

The dead were collected and burnt in funeral piles, made 
of rails, on the field where they had fallen. 



Note to Lundy's Lane. — The two Sergeants. — For 
several days after the action, the country people found the 
bodies of soldiers who had straggled off into the woods, and 
died of their wounds. — At some distance from the field of 
battle, and entirely alone, were found the bodies of two ser- 
geants, American and English, transfixed by each other's 
bayonets, lying across each other, where they had fallen in 
deadly duel. It is rare that individual combat takes place 
under such circumstances in the absence of spectators to 
cheer on the combatants by their approval, and this incident 
conveys some idea of the desperation which characterised the 
general contest on that night. Yet in this lonely and brief 
tragedy, these two men were enacting parts, which to them 
were as momentous as the furious conflict of the masses in 
the distance. 



Note to Lundy^s Lane. — Death of Captain Hull. — 
Captain Hull, a son of General Hull, whose unfortunate sur ■ 
17 



258 APPENDIX. 

render at Detroit created so much odium, fell in this battle. 
He led his men into the midst of the heaviest fire of the ene- 
my, and after they were almost if not all destroyed, plunged 
€fWord in hand into the centre of the British column, fighting 
with the utmost desperation until he was literally impaled 
upon their bayonets. 

. In the pocket of this gallant and generous young officer, 
was found a letter, avowing his determination to signalize 
the name or to fall in the attempt. 



Note to Lundy'^s Lane. — Scott's Brigade. — Part of 
Gen. Scott's command were dressed in grey — (probably 
the fatigue dress) — at the battle of Chippewa. An English 
company officer relates, that — " Advancing at the head of 
my men, I saw a body of Americans drawn up, dressed in 
grey uniform. Supposing them to be militia, I directed my 
men to fire, and immediately charge bayonet. — What was 
my surprise, to find as the smoke of our fire lifted from the 
ground, that instead of flying in consternation from our des- 
tructive discharge, the supposed militia were coming down 
upon us at * double quick ' — at the charge. In two minutes 
I stood alone, my men having given way, without waiting to 
meet the shock." , 



Note to Lundifs Lane. — Death of Capt. Spencer. — 
Capt. Spencer, aid-de-camp to Maj. Gen. Brown, a son of 
the Hon. Ambrose Spencer, was only eighteen years of 
age at the time that he closed his brief career. Pie was 
■directed by Gen. Brown to carry an order to another part 
of the field, and to avoid a more circuitous route, he chival- 
lously galloped down, exposed to the heavy fire in the front 



APPENDIX. 259 

of the line, eliciting the admiration of both armies, but before 
he reached the point of his destination, two balls passed 
through his body, and he rolled from his saddle. 

The following letter to Gen. Armstrong, Secretary of 
War, will show in what estimation he was held by Gen. 
Brown : — 

Copy of a letter from Major Gen. Brown, to Gen. Arm- 
fitrong. Secretary of War. 

"Head Quarters, Fort Erie, 
20th September, 1814. 

" Sir — Among the officers lost to this army, in the battle of 
Niagara Falls, was my aid-de-camp. Captain Ambrose Spen- 
cer, who being mortally wounded, was obliged to be left in 
the hands of the enemy. By flags from the British army, I 
was shortly afterwards assured of his convalescence, and an 
offer was made me by Lieutenant General Drummoad, to 
exchange him for his own aid, Captain Loring, then a pri- 
soner of war with us. However singular this proposition 
appeared, as Captain Loring was not wounded, nor had re- 
ceived the slightest injury, I was willing to comply with it 
on Captain Spencer's account. But as I knew his wounds 
v/ere severe, I first sent to ascertain the fact of his being 
then living. My messenger, with a flag, was detained, nor 
€ven once permitted to see Captain Spencer, though in his 
immediate vicinity. 

" The evidence I wished to acquire failed ; but my regard 
for Captain Spencer, would not permit me longer to delay, 
and I informed General Drummond, that his aid should be 
exchanged, even for the body of mine. This offer was, no 
doubt, gladly accepted, and the corpse of Captain Spencer 
sent 10 the American shore." . 



260 APPENDIX. 

Note to Montreal. — The custom of emblazoning on the 
flags, and other military insignia of the regiments, the actions 
in which they have signalized themselves, obtaining in the 
British and other European services, is not now allowed in 
that of the United States, on the score of its aristocratic 
tendency ! Although, perhaps, in the instance alluded to, 
the stupidity of the individual prevented him from under- 
standing their meaning ; still, to the more intelligent of the 
soldiers, they are no doubt a great incentive to uphold the 
honour of the regiment. 



Note to Lake George and Ticonderoga. — This impor- 
tant position, situated on Lake Champlain near the foot of 
the Horicon, (called by the English, Lake George, and by 
the French, St. Sacrament,) was first fortified by the French, 
and was the point from which they made so many incursions, 
in conjunction with the Indians, upon the English settle- 
ments. Lord Abercrombie led an army of nearly 16,000 
men against it in the year 1658 ; but was defeated with a 
loss of 2000 men, and one of his most distinguished officers, 
Lord Howe, who fell at the head of one of the advance col- 
umns. In the following year it surrendered to General 
Amherst, who led a force of nearly equal number against 
it. Its surprise and capture by Ethan Allen at the com- 
mencement of our revolution, is, we presume, familiar to 
every American, as also the fact of Burgoyne's getting 
heavy cannon upon the neighbouring mountain which had 
heretofore been considered impracticable, and from which 
the works were entirely commanded. The necessary with- 
drawal of the army by St. Clair, after blowing up the works, 
is as related in the text. 



APPENDIX. 261 

Note to Bass Fishing. — Crew of the Essex Frigate. — 
In the bloody and heroic defence of the Essex, in which, 
out of a crew of two hundred and fifty-five men, one hun- 
dred and fifty-three were killed and wounded ! a number 
of instances of individual daring and devotion are recorded 
of the common sailors. Besides the act of Ripley, which is 
mentioned in the text, one man received a cannon ball 
through his body, and exclaimed in the agonies of death — 
" Never mind, shipmates, I die for free trade and sailor's 
rights." Another expired inciting his shipmates to " fight 
for liberty !" — and another, Benjamin Hazen, having dressed 
himself in a clean shirt and jacket, threw himself over- 
board, declaring, that " he would never be incarcerated 
in an English prison." An old man-of-war's-man who 
was in her, informed the writer, that her sides were so 
decayed by exposure to the climate in which she had been 
cruizing, that the dust flew like smoke from every shot that 
came through the bulwarks, and that at the close of the ac- 
tion, when the Essex was lying perfectly helpless, a target 
for the two heavy British ships, riddled by every ball from 
their long guns, without the ability to return a single shot — 
he was near the quarter-deck and heard Commodore Porter 
walking up and down with hurried steps, repeatedly strike 
his breast and exclaim, in great apparent agony — " My 
Heaven ! — is there no shot for me !" 



Note to Bass Fishing. — Mutiny on Board the Essex 
Frigate. — While the Essex was lying at the Marquesas 
Islands, recruiting and refreshing her crew from one of the 
long and arduous cruises in the Pacific, Commodore Porter 
vv^s informed through a servant of one of the officers, that a 



262 APPENDIX. 

mutiny had been planned, and was on the eve of consumma- 
tion. That it was the intention of the mutineeis to use upon 
the officers — take possession of the ship — and, after having 
remained as long as they found agreeable at the island, to 
hoist the black flag and " cruize on their own account-"— 
Having satisfied himself of the truth of the information, 
Commodore Porter ascended to the quarter-deck, and ordered 
all the crew to be summoned aft. Waiting till the last man 
had come from below, he informed them that he understood 
that a mutiny was on foot, and that he had summoned them 
for the purpose of inquiring into its truth. — " Those men 
who are in favour of standing by the ship and her officers," 
said the commodore, " will go over to the starboard side — 
those who are against them will remain where they are." 
The crew, to a man, moved over to the starboard side. The 
ship was still as the grave. Fixing his eyes on them steadily 
and sternly for a few moments — the commodore said — 
"Robert White — step out." The man obeyed, standing 
pale and agitated — guilt stamped on every lineament of his 
countenance — in front of his comrades. The commodore 
looked at him a moment — then seizing a cutlass from the 
nearest rack, said, in a suppressed voice, but in tones sa 
deep that they rung like a knell upon the ears of the guilty 
among the crew — " Villain ! — you are the ringleader of this 
mutiny — ^jump overboard !" The man dropt on his knees, 
imploring for mercy — saying that he could not swim. " Then 
drown, you scoundrel !" said the commodore, springing to- 
wards him to cut him down — " overboard instantly !" — and 
the man jumped over the side of the ship. He then turned 
to the trembling crew, and addressed them with much feel- 
ing — the tears standing upon his bronzed cheek as he spoke. 



APPENDIX. 263 

He asked them what he had done, that his ship should be dis- 
graced by a mutiny. ]Te asked whether he had ever dishon- 
oured the flag — whether he had ever treated thenn v/ith other 
than kindness — whether they had ever been wanting for any 
thing to their comfort, that disciplin3 and the rules of the ser- 
vice would allow — and which it was in his power to give. At 
the close of his address, he said — " Men ! — before I came on 
deck, I laid a train to the magazine ! — and I would have b'own 
all on board into eternity, before my ship should have been dis- 
graced by a successful mutiny — I never would have survived 
the dishonour of my ship ! — go to your duty.'' The men 
"Were much aflfected by the commodore's address, and imme- 
diately returned to their duty, showing every sign of contri- 
tion. They were a good crew, but had been seduced by the 
allurements of the islands, and the plausible representations 
of a villain. 'J'hat they did their duty to their flag, it is 
only necessary to say — that the same crew fought the ship 
afterwards against the Phebe, and Cherub, in the harbour of 
Valparaiso, where, though the American flag descended — it 
descended in a blaze of glory which will long shine on the 
pages of history. But mark the sequel of this mutiny — and 
let those who, in the calm security of their fire-sides, are so 
severe upon the course of conduct pursued by officers in such 
critical situations, see how much innocent blood woud have 
been saved, if White had been cut down instantly, or hung at 
the yard arm. As he went overboard, he succeeded in reachino" 
a canoe floating at a little distance and paddled ashore. Some 
few months afterwards, when Lieutenant Gamble of the Ma- 
rines was at the islands, in charge of one of the large prizes, 
short handed and in distress, this same White, at the head of 



264 



APPENDIX 



a party of natives, attacked the ship, killed two of the offi- 
cers and a number of the men, and it was with great diffi- 
culty that she was prevented from falling into their hands. 
The blood of those innocent men, and the lives of two meri- 
torious officers would have been spared, if the wretch had 
been put to instant death — as was the commodore's intention. 
It will be recollected, that the Essex, in getting under way, 
out of the harbour of Valparaiso, carried away her foretop- 
mast in a squall, and being thus unmanageable, came to 
anchor in the supposed protection of a neutral port — never- 
theless the Phebe, frigate, and Cherub, sloop-of-war, attacked 
her in this position — the former with her long guns, selecting 
her distance — cutting her up at her leisure — while the Es- 
sex, armed only with carronades, lay perfectly helpless — her 
shot falling short of the Phebe, although they reached the 
Cherub, which was forced to get out of their range. " 1 was 
standing," said my informant, then a midshipman only four- 
teen years old, '• I was standing at the side of one of our bow 
chasers, (the only long guns we had,) which we had run aft 
out of the stern port — when the Phebe bore up, and ran un- 
der our stern to rake us. As she came within half-pistol 
shot (! ) she gave us her whole broadside at the same instant. 
— I recollect it well ! " said the officer — " for as I saw the 
flash, I involuntarily closed my eyes — expecting that she would 
have blown us out of the water — and she certainly would 
have sunk us on the spot, but firing too high, her shot cut 
our masts and rigging all to pieces, doing little injury to the 
hull. Singular as it may seem, the discharge of our one 
gun caused more slaughter than the whole of their broadside 
for while we had but one man wounded, the shot from our 
gun killed two of the men at the wheel of the Phebe, and 



APPENDIX. 265 

glancing with" a deep gouge on the main-mast, mortally 
wounded her first Lieutenant, who died on the following day 



Long Island Sound — New England Traditions. — 
There are few countries where traditions and legends are 
handed down from generation to generation with more fidelity 
than in New England, more particularly along the sea-coast 
and the shores of the Sound. The " fire ship" is supposed 
even now by the old fishermen to be seen cruising occasion- 
ally in the vicinity of Block Island in the furious storms of 
thunder and lightning. The tradition is, that she was taken 
by pirates — all hands murdered, and abandoned after being 
set on fire by the bucaneers. Some accounts state that a large 
white horse which was on board, was left near the foremast 
to perish in the flames — and in storms of peculiarly terrrfl3.c 
violence that she may be .seen, rushing along enveloped in 
fire, the horse stamping and pawing at the heel of the fore- 
mast, her phantom crew assembled at quarters. In the early 
part of the last century, a ship came ashore a few miles be- 
yond Newport, on one of the beaches — all sails set — the 
table prepared for dinner, but the food untouched, and no 
living thing on board of her. It was never ascertained 
what had become of her crew — but it was supposed that she 
had been abandoned in some moment of alarm, and that they 
all perished, although the vessel arrived in safety. 

The phantom horse will recall to mind a real incident 
which occurred not long since in the conflagration of one of 
the large steamboats on Lake Erie. A fine race horse was 
on board, and secured, as is usual, forward. Of course his 
safety was not looked to, while all were making vain efforts 
to save themselves from their horrible fate. As tl%e flames 



266 



APPENDIX 



came near hira he succeeded in tearing himself loose from 
his fastenings, rushing franticly through the fire and smoke 
fore and aft, trampling down the unfortunate victims that 
were in his way, adding still more horror to a scene which 
imagination can hardly realize, until frenzied with the pain 
and agony of the fire, he plunged overboard and perished. 

But the favourite and most cherished traditions are those 
relating to hidden treasure. The writer well recollects one 
to which his attention was attracted in his childhood. Mr. 

, inhabiting one of those fine old mansions in Newport, 

which had been built fifty years before, by an English gentle- 
man of fortune, where taste and caprice had been indulged 
to the extreme, and where closets, and beaufets, and cellars, 
and pantries, appeared to meet one at every turn, was enga- 
ged late one winter's night writing in his study, when he 
found it necessary to replenish his fire with fuel. The ser- 
vants having retired, he took a candle and went himself to the 
cellar to procure it, and as he passed the vault called the " wine 
cellar," his attention was attracted by alight streaming through 
the key-hole of the door. He stopped a moment and called out 
supposing that some of the family were in the apartment — 
but instantl}' the light vanished. He stepped up to the door 
and endeavoured to open it, but found to his surprise that it 
was fastened, — a thing that was unusual as the door constantly 
stood ajar. Calling out again, " who's there ?" without re- 
ceiving any answer, he placed his foot against the door, and 
forced it open, when a sight met his eyes, which for a mo- 
ment chained him to the spot. In the centre of the cellar 
in a deep grave which had been already dug, and leaning 
upon his spade, was a brawny negro, his shirt sleeves rolled 
up to his shoulders, and the sweat trickling down his glisten- 



APPENDIX. 



2G7 



ing black visage, while on the pile of earth made from the 
excavation, stood another negro, a drawn sword in one hand, 
a lantern with the light just extinguished in the other, and 
an open bible with two hazle rods across it, lying at his feet 
— these swart labourers the moment that the door was thrown 
open, making the most earnest signs- for silence. As soon as 

Mr. could command his voice, he demanded the 

meaning of what he saw and what they w^ere about. They 
both simultaneously then declared that the charm wa& broken 
by his voice. One of the worthies, who was the groom of 
the family, had dreamed five nights in succession, that old 

Mr. E the builder of the house, had buried a bootful (!) 

of gold in that cellar — and on comparing notes with hi& 
brother dreamer, he found that his visions also pointed to 
treasure in the old house, and they had proceeded secundem 
artem to its attainment, both vehemently declaring that they 

intended to give part of the treasure to Mr. . Of 

course, the door being opened, the strange negro was required 
to add the darkness of his visage to that of night, while the 
groom was on pain of instant dismission, together with the 
threat of the ridicule of the whole town, directed to fill up 
the grave, and thereafter to let the buried treasure sleep 
where its owner had seen fit to deposit it. 



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civilization, and under what circum.staiices those attributes of humanity, which in 
one country betome the foundation of social happiness, and in another perverted 
to the production of general misery. For this purpose the author has separately 
examined tbe principal elements by which society, under all its aspects, is held 
together, and traced each to its source in human nature. He has then directed 
attention to the development of these principles, and pointed out the circum- 
stances by which they were perfected on the one hand, or corrupted on the 
other." 

" We perceive by the preface that the work has had throughout, the superin- 
tendence ofthe very learned Archbishop Whately." — JSew-York An 



CARL.LE ON HISTORY AND HEROES. 

HERO, HERO-WORSHIP. AND THE HEROIC IN HISTORY. 

Sis Lectures, reported \vitli emendations and additions. 

By Thomas Carlyle, author of the " French Revolution,"' " Sar- 

lor Resartus," &c. 

Contents — The Hero as Divinity, Odin, Paganism, Scandinavian Mythology , 
The H€rj as Prophet, Mahomet, Islam ; The Hero as Poet, I'ante, Shakspeare; 
The Hero as Priest, Luther, Reformation, Knox, Puritanism ; The Hero as Wan 
of Letters, Johnson, Rosscau, Burns; The Hero as King, Cromwell, Napoleon, 
Modern Revoiut onism. 

1 vol. 12mo., beautifully printed on fine white paper. 

THOUGHTS IN PAST YEARS : 

A beautiful collection of Poetry, chiefly Devotii^nal. By the Au- 
thor of the Cathedral. 1 vol. royal Idmo. elegantly printed. 



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MEDITATIONS ON THE SACRAMENT. 

Godly Meditations upon the most Holy Sacrament of the Lor I'e 
Supper. By Christopher Sutton, D I)., late Prebend of West- 
minster. 1 vol. royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented. 



LEARN TO DIE. 

Disce Mori, Learn to Die, a Religious Discourse, moving every 
Christian man toentierinto a serious remembrance of his end. 
By Christopher Sptton, D D,, sometime Prebend of West- 
minster. 1 vol. IGmo, elegantly ornamented. 



SACRA PRIVATA 



Private Meditations, Devotions and Prayers 
Of the Right Rev T. Wilson, D. D., Lord Bishop of Soder and 
Man. First complete edition. 1 vol. royal 16mo., elegantly or- 
namented. First complete edition. 

A Discourse Concerning Prayer 

And the Frequenting Daily Public Prayers. By Simon Patrick, 
D.l)., somt;tune Lord Bishop of Ely. Edited by Francis E. 
Paget, M A , Chaplain to the Lord Bishop of Oxford. 1 vol. 
royal ICiao., elegantly ornamented. 



HEART'S EASE: 

Or a Pv,emedy against all Troubles ; 



Consolatory Discourse, 



Particularly addressed to those who have lost their friends and dear 
relations. By Simon Patrick, D D., someiime Lord Bishop of 
Ely. 1 vol. royal Himo., elegantly ornamented. 



SCRIPTURE and GEOLOGY. 

On the Relation between the Holy Scriptures and some parts 
of Geological Science. By John Pve Smith, D.D , author of 
the Scripture Testimony of the Messiah, &c. &c. 1 vol. l2mo. 



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4 NeiD Works and New Editions 

TOUR THROUGH TURKEY and PERSIA. 

Narrative of a Tour through Aimenia, Kurdistan, Persia, and Meso- 
potamia, witi) an Introduction and Occasional Obsei-vatii ns 
upon the Condition of Moliaminedanitun and Christianity in those 
countries. By the IIkv. Horatio Southgate, Missionary of 
the American Episcopal Church. 2 vols. l2rao. plates. 

Blagee on Atonement and Sacrifice. 

Discoui'-es and Dissertations on the Scriptural Doctrines of Atone- 
ment and Sacrifice, and on the Principal Arguments advanced, 
and the Mode of Reasoninu employed, by ihe Opponents of tliose 
D.)ctrines, as held by the E^tab]ished Church. By the late Most 
Rev. William Magek, D. D., Archbishop of Dublin. 2 vols, 
royal 8vo., beautifully piintid. 

SOUTHEY'S POETCAL WORKS. 

The complete collected edition of the Poetical Works of Robert 
SouTHEY, Esq., LL.D . edited by himself. Printed verbatim 
trom the ten volume London edition. Illustrated with a fine por- 
trait and vignette. I vol. royal 8vo. 

" The beanties ofMr. Southey's Poetry are such that this collected edition can 
hardly fail to find a place iu the Library of every persoQ fond of elegant l-tera- 
lua.e." —Eclerlic Rei-ieio. 

" Southey's principal Poems have been long before the world, extensively read, 
and highly appreciated. Their appearing in a uniform edition, with the author's 
final corrections, will afford unfeigned pleasure to those who are married to im- 
mcrtnl verse." — Literary Gazette. 

" This edition of the works of Southey is a credit to the press of our country." 
—N. A. Keview. 

mim HISTOM o( CIVILIZATION. 

General History of (civilization in Europe, from the Fall of the Ro- 
man Empire to the French Revolution. Translated from the 
French of M. GUIZOT. Professor of History to la Faculte des 
Leitres of Paris, and Minister of Public Instruction. 2d Ameri- 
can, from the last London edition. 1 vol. 12mo. 

EICEERSTETffS COMPLETE WORKS. 

The Works oi the Rkv. Edward Bickersteth, Rector of Man- 
ton, Htrifordshire, containing Scripture, Help, Treatise on Pray- 
er, the Christian Hearer, the Chief concerns of Man for Time and 
Eternity, Treatise on tiie Lord's Supper, and the Christian Stu- 
dent. I vol. 8vo. 



Q 

Published by D. Appleton Sf Co. 5 

THE LIFE OF ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 

Edited by his son, John C. Hamilton. 2 vols, rojal 8vo. 

" We cordially recommend tlie perusal and diligent study of these volumes, ex- 
hibitinj;, as they do, much valuable matter relative to the Revolution, the estab- 
lishment of the Federal Constitution, and other important events in the annals 
of our country." — New-York Review. 

SCOTLMD mi the SCOTCH; 

OR, THE WESTERN CIRCUIT. 
By Catherine Sinclair, autlior of Modern Accomplishmonts, 
Modern Society, &c. <fcc. 1 vol. VZmo. 

SHETLAND and the SHETLANDERS; 

OR, THE NORTHERN CIRCUIT. 

By Catherine Sinclair, auth >r of Scotland and the Scotch, Ho- 
liday House, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12nio. 

THE METROPOLITAN PULPIT; 

Or Sketches of the most Popular Preachers in London. By the 
author of Random Recollections, The Great Metropolis, &c. &c. 
1 vol. 12mo. 

HARE^S PAROCHIAL SERMONS. 

Sermons to a Country Congreiration. By Augustits William 
Hare, A.M., late Fellow of New College and Rector of Alton 
Barnes. 1 vol. royal 8vo. 

" Any one who can be pleased with delicacy of thought expressed in the most 
simple language — any one who can feel the charm of finding practical duties elu- 
culated and enforced by apt and varied illustrations— will be delighted with this 
volume, whicli presents us with the workings of a pious and highly gifted Kiind." 
— Quarterly Review. 

Williams's Missionary Enterprises. 

A Narrative of Missionary Enterprises and Triumphs in the South 
Seas, with Remarks upon the Natural History of the Islands, 
Origin, Language. Tradition and Usages of the Inhabitants. By 
the Rev. John VVilliams, of the London Missionary Society. 
Numerous plates. 1 vol. large 12mo. 

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New Works and New Editions 



Or. 



THE FLAG SHIP : 

"Voyage Round the World, 
In the UnJtPiJ Stntps Frignte Columbia atteiidf d by h^r consort, the 
Stoop of War John Adam-, and beaiinu th(- broad pennant of 
Commodore George C. Read. By Filch W.Taylor, Chaplain to 
the Squadron, 2 vols. 12mo. plaies. 

ELLA V- 



Or the July Tour. By one of the Party. 1 vol. 12mo. 
" He can form a moral on a glass of champagne." — Le Roy. 

Missionary's Farewell. 

By the Rev. John Williams, author of Missionary Enterprises, 
&c. 1 vol. 18nio. 

A Collection of Church Music. Edited by George Kingsley, 

author of Social Choir, &c. 

" This collection is pronounced by the most eminent professors to be superior 
to any published in the country." 

Physical Theory of Another Life. 

By Isaac Taylor, author of Natural History of Enthusiasm. 
TJiird edition. 1 vol. 12mo. 

23©Mzi^ iE©w©=^'S'a©Mra 

By Isaac Taylor, author of Natural History of Enthusiasm, &c. 
&c. Second Edition. 1 vol. 12mo. 

Limitations of Human Responsibility. 

By Francis Wayland, D.D. Second edition. 1 vol. 18mo. 



The Principles of Diagnosis. 

By M.4RSHALL Hall, M.D. F.R.S.. &c. Second edition, with many 
improvements, by Dr. John A. Swktt. 1 vol. 8vo. 



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Published by D. Appleton 8f Co. 



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WORKS BY THE REV. ROBERT PHILIP. 

THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF DR. MILNE, 

MISSIONARY TO CHINA. 

Illustrated by Biosrapliiral Annals of As'aiic Missions from Primi- 
tive to Protestant Tunes, intended as a Guide to Missionary iSpirit. 
By Robert Philip. 1 vol. J'2nio. 

THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JOHN BUNYAN, 

Author of ilie Pilgrim's Progress. By Robert Philip. With a fine 
portiait. 1 vol. 12n)0. 

LADY'S CLOSET LIBRARY, 

AS FOLIyOWS: 

THE MARYS; 
Or Beauty of Female Holiness. By Robert Philip. 1 vol. ISino. 

THE MARTHAS; 

Or Varieties of Female Piety. By Robert Philip. 1 vol. 18mo. 

THE LYDIAS ; 

Or Development of Female Character. By Robert Philip. 1 
vol. 18mo. 

DEVOTIONAL AND EXPERIMENTAL GUIDES. 

By Robert Phili:*. With an Introductory Essay by Rev. Albert 
Barnes. 2 vo.s. 12mo. Contaniing 
Guide to the Perplexed. 
Do do Devotional. 
Do do Tiioughtful. 
Do do Doubting. 
Do do Conscientioug. 
Do do Redemption. 

YOUNG MANS CLOSET LIBRARY. 
By Robert Philip With an Introductory Essay by Rev. Albert 
Barnes. 1 vol. 12mo. 

LOVE OF THE SPIRIT, 
Traced in his W^ork : a Companion to the Experimental Guides. 
By Robert Philip. I vol. 18mo. 

Shortly will be Published, 

THE HANNAHS. 

Being a continuation of the Lady's Closet Library, forming the 
Maternal portion of the series. 



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WORKS BY THE REV. JOHN A. JAMES. 
Pastoral Addresses : 

By Rev. John Angell James. With an Introduction by the 
Rev. Wm. Adams. 1 vol. 18nio. 

Contents.— The increased Holiness of the Church. Spirituality of Mind. Hea- 
venly IMindedness. AaKurance of Hope. Praciical Religion wisest in every thing. 
How lo spend a Profitable Sa'jhalh. Christian Obligations. Life of Faith. Influ- 
ence of Older Christians. The Spirit of Prayer. Private Prayer. Sell-Examin- 
ation. 

THE YOUNG MAN FROM HOME. 

In a series of Letters, especially directed for the Moral Advancement 
of Youth. By the Rev. John Angell James. Fifth edition. 
1 vol. 18mo. 

The Anxious Enquirer after Salvation 

Directed and Encouraged. By Rev. John Angell James. 1 vol. 
18mo. 

The Christian Professor. 

Addressed in a series of Counsels and Cautions to the Members of 
Cluistian Churches. By Rev. John Angell James. 1 vol. 
IBmo. 

Happiness, its Nature and Sources. 

By Rev. John Angell James. 

THE WIDOW DIRECTED 

To the Widow's God. By Rev. John Angell James. 



DISCOURSES ON THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. 

Select Discourse* on the Functions of the Nervous System, in oppo- 
sition to Plirenology, Materialism and Atheism ; to which is pre- 
fixed a Lecture on the Diversities of the Human Character, aris- 
ing from Physiological Pecuharities. By John Augustine 
Smith, M.D. 1 vol. 12mo. 



Thoughts in Affliction. 

By the Rkv. A. S. Thelwall, A.M. To which is added Bereaved 
Parents Consoled, by John Thornton, with Sacred Poetry. 
1 vol. 32mo. 



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Published by D. Applefon ^' Co. 



WORKS BY THE REV. DR, SPRAGUE. 
True and False Religion. 

Lectures illustrating the Contrast between True Christianity and 
various other systems. By William B Sprague, D.D. i vol. 
liJuio. 

Lectures on Revivals 

In Religion. By W. B. Pprague, D.D. With an Introductory 
Essay by LEONARr Woods, D.D. lvol.l2mo. 

Letters to a Daughter, 

On Practical Subjects. By W. B. Sprague, D.D. Fourth edi- 
tion, revised and enlarged. 1 vol. I'inio. 

Lectures to Young People. 

By W. B. Sprague, D.D. With an Int'od>ictorv Address by Sam- 
uel Miller, D.D. Fourth edition. 1 vol. 12mo. 



MY SON'S MANUAL. 

Comprising a Summary View of the Studies, Accomplishments, and 
l*rinci(iles of Conduct, best suited for Piomoting Respectability 
and Success in Life. Elegantly engraved frontispiece. I vol. 18nio. 



MY DAUGHTER'S MANUAL. 

Comprising a Summary View of Female Studies, Accomplishments 
and Principles of Conduct. Beautiful frontispiece. 1 vol. 18mo. 

GRIFFIN'S REMAINS. 

Remains of the Rev. Edmund D. Griffin. Compiled by Francis 
Griffin. With a iMemoir by Rev. Dr. McVicar. 2 voli. 8vo. 



HODGE ON THE STEAM-ENGINE. 

The Steam Ensine, its Origin and Gradual Improvement from the 
time of Hero to the present day, as adapted to Manufactures, Lo- 
cnmntion and Navigation. Illustrated with forty-eight plates in 
full detail, numerous wood cuts, &c. By Paul R. Hodge, C. E. 
1 vol. folio of p!ates and letter-press in 8vo. 

" In this work the beat Western and Eastern machinery, as applied to navio:a- 
tion, together with the most approved locomotive engines in this country and 
Europe, are given in detail, forming the most valuable work for the practical maa 
ever published." 



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Neio Works and New Editions 



APPLETON'S TALES FOR THE 

And tlieir Cliiltlren. 



PEOPLE 



The greatest care is taken in selecting the works of which the 
collection is composed, so that nothing either mediocre in talent, 
or momoral in tendency,- is admitted. Each volume is printed 
in the finest paper, is illustrated with an elegant frontispiece, 
and is bound in a superior manner, tastefully ornamented. 
The following have already appeared uniform in size and style: 

WHO SHALL BE GREATEST? A Tale : by Mary How- 
ITT. 1 vol. 18mo., plates. 

" The great moral lesson inculcated by this book is indicated by its title ; and 
while il is prominent enough through tlie whole volume, it comes out at the 
close with most impressive effect. We need not say it is a lesson which every 
human being is the wiser and the .better for learning. We cordially recom- 
mend the worlt to all who would desire to form a sober and rational estimate 
of the world's enjoyments." — Albany Evening Journal. 

SOWING AND REAPING: or What will Come of It ? by 
Mary Howitt. 1 vol. 18mo., plates. 

" We commenced it with the intention of just looking it over for the pur- 
pose of writing a cursory notice ; but we began to read, and so we went on 
to ilie finis. It is very interesting: iJie characters are full of individuality. " — 
New-Bedford Mercury. 

STRIVE AND THRIVE : a Tale by Mary Howitt. 1 vol. 
18mo., plates. 

" The mere announcement of the name of the authoress, will doubtless 
bring any of her productions to the immediate notice of the public ; but 
Strive and Thrive is not a book for children only, but can be read with 
pleasure and advantage by those of a more mature age. Il fully sustains the 
reputation of ilsjiredecessors. The style is easy and flowing, the language 
chaste and beauUful, and the incidents of the tale calculated to keep up Uie 
interest to the end.— New-York Courier 8f Enquirer. 

HOPE ON, HOPE EVER: or the Boyhood of Felix Law : by 
Mary Howitt. 1 vol. ISmo. 

" A very neat volume with the above title, and the farther annunciation 
that it may be called Tales for the People and their Children, has been written 
by Mary Howitt, whose name is so favourably known to the reading com- 
munity." 

" This volume like all others that emanate from the pen of this lady, is ex- 
tremely interesting ; the characters are naturally drawn, while the feeling and 
passion displayed, give the work a higher rank than is usually allotted to 
Nursery Tales. "—Comwfrda/ Advertiser. 

THE LOOKING GLASS FOR THE M I N D : or Intellectu- 
al Mirror, being an elegant collection of the most dehghtful 
little stories and interesting tales : chiefly translated from that 
much admired work L'ami des Enfans ; with numerous wood 
cuts — the twentieth edition. 1 vol. ISmo. 

The stories here collected are of a most interesting character, since virtue is 
constantly represented as the fountain of happiness, and vice as the source of 
every evil— as a useful and instructive Looking Glass, we recommend it for the 
instruction of every youth, whether Miss or Master ; it is a mirror that will 
not flatter them or lead them into error ; it displays the follies and improper 
pursuits of youthful hearts, points out the dangerous paths lliey sometimes 
tread, and clears tlie way to tlie temple of honour and fame. 



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THE SETTLERS AT HOME: by Harriet Martineau. 
1 vol. Ibmo. 

"The circumstances under which this little volume, tor the amusement of 
children, has been produced, give an additional charm to its truth, simplicity, 
and feeling. The tale, thoutrli in one passage sorrowful enough to moisten 
many a pair of eyi's. is tul! nl iniprest and character. The latter, we may 
add, isasmuch ap, 1 'rcn as the former ; and they will take as 

lively an interest m Mit and unselfish fidelity and her stalwart 

arms, and in Roger , -y boy's gleams of better nature, as in the 

developemeni of the :i ..,c. „ .a of the book, a disastrous flood which 

spread devastation ovei' ilie Isle of Axholme two hundrti years ago." — Athe- 

" The early tales of Miss Martineau, written to inculcate and illustrate, by 
practical examples, the truths of political economy, will survive her later 
and more controversial works. So in this little story of the History and ill- 
treatment of some Dutch settlers, in the fens of Lincolnshire — during the wars 
of the Parliament because tliey were strangers, and because, moreover, they 
interlered with the wild and ague-shaken gunners and fishermen of the fens,— 
we see again the same shrewdness of observation — the same real interest in the 
welfare of the humble classes— the same sagacity, and occasional natural pa- 
thos, which rendered the politico-economical tracts so attractive, in despite of 
their name and subject." — New-York American. 

EARLY FRlENDSHIPra Tale by Mrs. Copley, 1 vol. 18mo., 
plates. 

In introducing the name of a new writer to this series of 
popular works, the publishers cannot but express their desire 
that all who have purchased previous volumes, will buy this, 
being assured it will ommend itself to the reader so that the 
name of Mrs. Copley will soon, like the name of Howitt, 
be a passport to the notice and favour of the whole reading 
community. 

FAMILY SECRETS : or Hints to those who would make 
Home Happy, by Mrs. Ellis, author of "The Women of 
England," *' Poetry of Life," etc. 

" The tendency of this book is one of the best arid noblest. The scenes and 
characters are, it is believed, portraits. Ainnng as it does at the correc- 
tion of a too prevalent vice — it is expected that the Family Secrets will com- 
mand amongst the serious and thinking part of the connnunity as extensive a 
popularity as Nicholas Nickleby does in its peculiar circle." 

PAST DAYS; a Storj'- for Children. By Esther Whitlock. 

Square 18mo. 

"It is a delightful, instructive little book ; and if the child, when she closes 
the volume, find her 'eyes red with weeping,' let her not be ashamed ; one old 
enough to be her grandfather, caught the same disease from the same source." 
— Philadelphia United Slates Gazette. 



HAZEN'S SYMBOLICAL SPELLING-BOOK. 

The Symbolical Spelling Book, in two parts. By Edward Ha- 
ZKN. Containing 288 engravings, printed on good paper. 
" This work is already introduced into upwards of one thousand diifl'erent 

schools, and pronounced to be one of the beat works published. 



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12 New Works and New Editions 



Lafever's Modern Architecture. 

Beauties of Modern Arrhitecture; consisting of Forty- eiprlit Plates 
of Original Designs, with Plans, Elevations and Sections, also a 
IJictionary of Technical Terms, the whole forming a complete 
Manual for the Practical Business Man, By M. Lafever, Archi- 
tect. 1 vol. large 8vo. half bound. 

Lafever's Stair-Case and Haud-Rail Construction. 

The Modern Practice of Stair-Case and Hand-Rail Construction, 
practically explained in a series of Designs. By M. Lafkver, 
Arcliitfct. VVith Plans and Elevations for Ornamental Villas. 
Fifteen plates. 1 vol large 8vo. 

Keightly's Mytliology for Schools. 

The Mytholosy of Ancient Greece and Italy, designed for the use of 
Schools. By Thomas Keightly. Numerous wood cut illustra- 
tions. 1 vol, Itimo. half bound. 



POLYMICRIAN NEW TESTAMENT. 

Numerous References, Maps, <tc. 1 vol. l8mo. 

By J.K.Paulding, Esq, Illustrated with one hundred unique 
original plates by Chapman, Elegantly bound. 1 vol. ]2nio. 



KT Prepai^ing for Fiiblicaiion, 



LEARN TO LIVE. 

Disce Vivere, Learn to Live; wherein is shown that the Life of 
Christ is. and ought to be, an express Pattern for imitation unto 
the life of a Christian. By Christoiher Sutton, D D., some- 
time Prebend of Westminster. 1 vol. l(imo. elegantly pruned. 

The Early English Church ; 

By the Rev. Edward Churton, A.M. 1 vol. 16mo, With a Pre- 
face by the Right Rev. Bishop Ives. 



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Preparing for Publication. 13 

PALMER'S TREATISE on the CHURCH. 

A TREATISE ON THE CHURCH OF CHRIST, 

Designed chiefly for the use of Students in Theology. By the 
Bkv. William Palmer, MA., of Worcester ('ollecre, Oxford. 
Eilited, with Notes, by the Right Kev. W. R. Whittingham, D.D., 
Bishop of tlie Protestant Episcopal Church in the diocese of 
Bluryland. 2 vols. 8vo. Hanusoniely printed on tine paper. 



The Beauties of the Country ; 

Iiller ; author of "Rural Sketches," ' 

c. 

HISTORY OF NAPOLEON 



By Thomas Miller; author of "Rural Sketches," "Day ia the 
Woods," &.C. 



) 

From the French of M. Laurent pe L'Ardechk. With Five 
Hundred Iilustiations, alter Designs by Horace Vernet. 2 
vols. 8vo. 

The Selected Beauties of British Poetry, 

With Biograpliical and Critical Notices, and an Essay on English 
Poetry. By Thomas Campbell. One handsome volume, royal 
8vo. 

From the last London edition. 1 vol. 16mo. elegantly printed. 

Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. 

By Daniel Defoe. WithTnree Hundred Illustrations; after De- 
signs by Grandville. 1 vol. 8vo. 



THE PHILOSOPHICAL HISTORY OF MANKIND. 

From the German of Herder. 

The History of the Reformation in Germany. By Leopold von 
Ranke, author of the History of the Popes. Translated by Sa- 
rah Austen. 

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Recently Published, 
The Sacred Choir: 

A COLLECTION OF CHURCH MUSIC. 

Consisting of Selections from the most disiingiiii»hed authors, among 
wiiom ate tlie names of Hayun, Mozart, Bekthoven, Pkrgo- 
LESsi, <fcc. &c. ; with several pier.(!s of AJusic by ilie author ; 
also a Progressive Elementary System of Instruction for Pupils. 
By George Kingsley, author of the Social Choir, &c. &c. 
Fourth ediiion. 
Jl3= 'I'he following are among the many favourable opinions 

expressed of this worlc. 

From L. Meignen, Professor of Music, Fhiladelphia. 

~_ " G. Kingsley, 

" Sir^— 1 have carefully perused the copy of your new work, and it is with 
the greatest pleasure that 1 now tell you that 1 have been highly gratified with the 
reading of many of its pieces. The hannonj throughout is full, eliective and 
correct; the melodies are well selected and «ell adapted; and 1 jiave no doubt, 
that when known and appreciated, this work will be found in the library of every 
choir whose director feels, as many do, the want of a complete reformation iu 
that department of music. iJelieve me, dear sir, 

" Yours respectfully, 

" L. Meignen." 
From Mr. B. Denman, President of the David Sacred Music Sociuy, Pliiladd- 
pliia, to George Kingsley. 

"Dear sir, — Having examined your ' Satred Choir,' I feel much pleasure in re- 
commending it as the very best collection of Church Music I have ever ^;een. It 
combines the beauties oi other books ol the kind, with some decided improve- 
ments in selection, arrangement and comjiosition, and commends itself to the 
choir, the parlour and social circle. Wishing you the success your valuable and 
well-aranged work UiCrits, 1 am, sir, 

" Yours respectfully. " 
From the Committee of the Choir of Vale College. 
""" Sir,— We have been using for some time past your new publication in the 
choir with which we are coniieited. "We take pleasure in statini to you oui en- 
tire satisfaction with the manner in which it has been c<>inpiled and harnionized, 
and would willingly reeommend it to any of the associations desiring a collection 
of Sacred Music of a sterling character and original matter. Themeiodies are 
quite varied and of an unusually pleasing character; and uniiiiig, as they do, the 
devotional with the pleasing, we liave no hesitation iu giving lliein our preference 
to any other cuUection of a similar character at present in use among the 
churches." 

From Three Leaders of Choirs. 
•' Mr. George Kingsley. 

"Sir,— VVe have examined the 'Sacred Choir' enough to lead us to ap- 
preciate the work as the best publication of Sacred Music extant. Jt is beauiifuUy 
printed and substantially bound, conferring credit on the publishers. VVe bespeak 
for the ' Sacred Music Choir' an extensive circulation. 

Sincerely yours, 

" O. S. Bowdoin. 
" E. O. Goodwin. 
" D. lugraham." 



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EMPORIUM FOR STANDARD LITERATURE, 
English and American. 



D. APPLETON So Co. 

Beg leave to invite the attention of their Fiiends and the Public 
generally, to their Choice and Unique Assortment of the most im- 
portant Works that emanate from the English and American Press. 
Their Establishment is distinguished by its large collection of 
Standard Works in tlie several departments of Thkology, Civil 
AND Ecclesiastical History, Poetry, Natural and Moral 
Philosophy, Architecture and Engineering, General Bio- 
GRAi'HY, Voyages and Travels, Fine Arts, Classical and 
General Literature. 

Among their recent importations will be found new and beauti- 
ful editions of the Works of BacDn, t'laiendfin, Burnet, Jeremy 
Taylor, Milion, Burrow, Hooker, Ben Jotison, Massin^er and Ford, 
Btauniont and Fletcher, Shaksp^are, Froissart, Monslrelet, Dod- 
dridge, Baxter, Ownn, Strype, BloomfieUI, Craniiier, Butler, Cave, 
Beikeley Adams, Greenliill, Dotnie t*outh, Hume and Smollett, 
Gibbon, Pioberison, l.oike, Laidner, Leslie, Hurd, Porteiis, John 
Scott, Skelton, Sherlocke, Warburion, Chillinuworth, Leighton, 
Simeon, Tillotson. Hall, Shirley, Davy, Henry, Clarke, Wrax- 
hall, Alison, Mitford, Byron, Stackhouse, Bentley, Shaaron, Tur- 
ner, ^'pencer, Warton, Fuller, L;imb, H..zlitt, Coleridge, Shelley, 
Bingham, Graves, Beveridge, Wycherley, Congreve, Vaiibrugh, 
Farquhar. and others, too numerous to mention, always for sale 
on favourable terms. 



I 

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AMERICAN BOOKS. 

Their Assortment of " Modern American Publications" is now 
very complete, comprising the most Valuable and Approved 
WOKKS IN THEOLOGICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS 
LITERATURE, 

TO WHICH ADDITIONS ARE CONSTANTLY BEING ADDED. 

School Books in every variety, 

Country Mercliaiits supplied on tlie most 
favourable terms. 



-o 



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o 



IIVIPORTATION OF EUROPEAN BOOKS. 



D. APPLETON 86 Co. 

Beg to inform Literary and Scientific Gentlemen, and the Public 
generally, that they liave recently made extensive arrangements for 
the in( rease of their business, through the senior partner of their 
firm, (now resident in Eigland,) connected with the establishment 
of a permnnent London Agen( y for the purchase and supply of 
European Books, to be conducted hy one of their house, who will 
devote his personal attention to the execution of all orders trans- 
mitted them, with ihe utmost prompiitude and despatch. 

They are induced to lake this step from a conviction of its impor- 
tant utility to the literary interests of this country, derived from 
their long experience in businers ; and they flatter themselves that 
this arrangement will place them in the most favourable position 
for making purchases in the British and Continental Book Markets ; 
while by restricting their business simply to an Agency for the pur- 
chase of Books, they will enjoy all the advantages accorded by the 
custom of the London Trade when books are bought for exportation 
toafoieign country, but which are rigorously withheld Irom any 
establishment engaged in the sale of books on the spot. 

It will be their aim to merit the patronage of the public by fur- 
nishing books at the lowest possible price, and the constant attention 
of a member of iheir Firm, personally acquainted with the British 
and Foreign Book Trade, will secure the speedy execution of all 
orders entrusted to their care. 

Terms. — Colleges, Theological Seminaries, and Incorporated In- 
stitutions generally, may have their orders executtd, to any amount, 
free of duty, on a charge of Ten per cent. Commission — the Goods 
to be paid for on their arrival at New-York— witliout any advance 
of cash required. 

From Gentlemen, and Private Individuals, (when they are not 
known to D. A. & Co.) an advance ot one half the probable cost of 
the order will be required; tlie balance to be settled on the arrival 
of the Books at New-York. A Commission of Ten per cent, being 
charged. 



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i^ 



J 926 



Deacidifled using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: 




JUN 



rr ^a' sfsiss^ai 



1998 



PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES, LP. 
1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 1606S 
(724)779-2111 



